Counselor Undone (3 page)

She took a deep breath before she continued. “Unfortunately
for you—” She sighed. “—well, for both of us really. I’m the kind
of girl who needs a commitment, not the kind of girl you keep in your little
black book for late-night hookups.”

He removed her hand. “Whatever you say. All I’m asking is
for you to give me a chance to find out who you are for myself.”

She laughed and shook her head again. “I don’t think so.
Something tells me after tonight, we’d be hard pressed to rewind to
getting-to-know-you drinks or dinner and a movie. How about we simply leave it
at our midnight rendezvous, and I’ll revisit the memory of tonight whenever I
need to remind myself even someone as provincial as me can have a bit of a
naughty girl inside.”

Still holding her hand, he insisted, “At least tell me your
first name.”

She smiled fully for the first time. “What? And ruin the
mystique? I don’t think so.” She began to walk away. She made it halfway to the
balcony door before she hesitated. She turned to see his pensive profile
staring off into the night. “Hey, Spartacus,” she called.

He turned his head towards the sound of her voice.

“You’re one hell of a kisser. Whoever your true Juliet is,
she’s one lucky lady.” She returned to the party, but not before she heard him
murmur under his breath.

“
You
are my true Juliet,” he whispered, not knowing
she could hear him.

More bothered than he cared to admit about Juliet’s
refusal to tell him her real name, Michael stood at the balcony railing staring
into the night.
New Year’s Day
, he mused.
A day for new beginnings.

He surveyed the sparkling Christmas lights on the retail
and office buildings of the Country Club Plaza. Over two hundred eighty-seven
thousand multi-colored Christmas lights covered approximately one hundred
thirty-nine square miles of Spanish-inspired architecture. The Kansas City
novelty thrilled locals and holiday tourists alike. The beautiful sight would
stay lit for another two and a half weeks before being doused until the next
annual lighting ceremony to be held, as per tradition, on Thanksgiving night.

From his position atop the upscale Wornall Hills condo
building, Michael could see the entire fifteen-block display. The
postcard-perfect visual made a fitting backdrop for what had turned into the
most romantic encounter of his adult life. Two things were certain: One, he
would never view a simple kiss the same way again; two, the woman he’d kissed tonight
was definitely
not
the same woman who had accosted him earlier in the
parlor.

The feel of his Juliet still lingered across his fingers
and across his senses. He had a strange sensation flowing through his
consciousness.
Amore a prima vista.
He hadn’t thought about the concept
in a long time. He didn’t believe in it—the notion that when a man met
the woman right for him, he would recognize her instantly.

As he stood alone with his thoughts, he remembered his
father telling him often about the day he’d first seen his mother. His father
always claimed it had been “love at first sight.” When he was young, Michael
had loved listening to the story of how his parents had met. After all, his
mother was beautiful. How could a man not fall in love with her instantly? Once
he reached his teens, he became more skeptical, and his skepticism had grown
over the years.

His personal experiences with women suggested no such
magic exists. In his opinion, what his father had felt for his mother amounted
to lust at first sight, and his father had simply gotten lucky. His mother had
turned out to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. More
often than not, the women Michael encountered showed themselves to be calculating,
manipulative, and creatures of false passion or coyness.

He found it interesting that the most genuinely passionate
encounter of his life had occurred with a complete stranger. The woman had been
not only beautiful, but also spontaneous and sexy and the most naturally responsive
woman he’d ever touched. And what had he done?

He’d let her walk away.

He tensed.
Idiot!

Turning abruptly, Michael rushed into the party. His eyes
skimmed the crowd. Packed from wall to wall, the normally cavernous room shrank
to a tiny blockade. Couples huddled together, discreetly making time or swaying
together on the makeshift dance floor. Groupings of friends and acquaintances
chatted and laughed. The crush made his search dense work, but his height
allowed him to see over ninety percent of the party guests. When he didn’t see
Juliet immediately, an unfamiliar wave of anxiety rushed over him.

Anticipation slipped towards dread. His eyes scanned the room
again and finally located her on the platform leading to the front door. She
stood talking on a mobile phone. Her demeanor turned animated. He couldn’t hear
her side of the conversation, but he recognized signs of distress in her
expressions. After a few moments, she closed her eyes, lowered the phone, and
blew out a breath. That she might have trouble concerned him. He moved towards
her, his desire to learn her identity now coupled with a strong need to make
sure she was all right.

He’d only taken a few steps when she looked up and saw
him advancing towards her. A look of astonishment crossed her face. Turning
quickly, she opened the door, exited, and closed the door behind her.

Michael quickened his pace, muttering apologies as he
pushed past people left and right. When he finally made it to the door, he
swore. His unsuccessful tugging revealed she’d locked it. Disengaging the lock,
he simultaneously admired and cursed her ability to keep her wits about her
while making a hasty getaway. He’d lost precious seconds in his pursuit.

The door finally swung open, and relief washed over him.
She stood in front of the lone elevator located at the end of the hall.

“Wait!” he called.

A resonant ding announced the arrival of the elevator a
half second later. She raised her hand, palm out, before stepping inside. He
couldn’t tell if she’d meant to wave goodbye or simply to tell him not to
follow her. Either way, he had no intention of letting her get away.

He dashed into the stairwell. The overly bright white
lights shocked his pupils after the soft yellow lighting of the hallway, but he
didn’t slow down. He descended each flight of stairs in a rush, leaping three
and four steps at a time. The tinny reverberation of his footsteps on the metal
stairs bounced around the whitewashed walls. The sound mocked him with the
possibility of failure.

He made it to the lobby level in time to glimpse the hem
of Juliet’s flowing gown flutter on a gush of air and disappear inside the
revolving panes of the glass exit. He pressed forward. Darting into the slowing
turnstile, he pushed hard, but the natural lethargy of the revolving door
fought against his urgency.

Trapped inside the circular, mechanical obstruction, he
watched a taxi pull to a stop in front of Juliet.

She reached for the door handle.

“
Porca Madonna!
” His exasperation defaulted,
without conscious thought, to his mother’s native Italian tongue and sweat
beaded his brow.
No. No. No.
Getting this close and failing became untenable.
With one last burst of muscle, he plowed his way free. “Please wait!”

She stopped and eyed him over the taxi door she’d pulled
open.

Gulps of air expanded his lungs in a staccato rhythm. Not
wanting to spook her any more than he already had, he stood immobile at the
building entrance. “I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

She waited, but didn’t speak.

“I have to know your name.”

“Just call me Juliet.”

He swallowed his disappointment. “Okay, I get it. You
don’t want to tell me your real name. I’ll have to live with that. For now.” He
ran a hand through his hair, shoving wayward locks off his forehead. “Let me
buy you dinner tonight.”

She shook her head.

“Tomorrow then or any day you choose. Give me a chance,
Juliet. I realize I didn’t behave . . . um . . . like a gentleman upstairs. And
I apologize if I offended you. But, I promise I’m not an axe murderer or a
stalker or generally a molester of women—”

She laughed, a light airy sound. “I don’t know why, but
for some reason, I believe you.”

“Then have dinner with me.”

“I can’t. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He opened his mouth to protest and began to move forward.

She stopped him. “No. Try to look at this from my perspective.”
She paused briefly to duck her head inside the cab and murmur something to the
driver. When she looked back at him, her lips held a reluctant smile. “If we
had met under different circumstances, I’m sure I’d find your dinner invitation
flattering. Tonight, well . . .” The hand she’d rested on top of the cab door
tightened.

Although he stood some distance from her, Michael noticed
the gesture. It didn’t bode well.

She averted her gaze. The taxi had stopped outside the parameter
of the security floodlights so shadows danced across her masked face. “My
friends are always telling me I need to be more spontaneous.” She looked back
at him with a simper. “I doubt our meeting upstairs is exactly what they had in
mind, but I’d like to be able to look back on tonight and remember it as my
adventurous rendezvous with a sexy stranger. That will be a lot easier for me
to do if I don’t have to face you tonight or the next day or the day after
that. Please try to understand. I need you to let me go.”

For several seconds, neither of them spoke. They stood
quietly regarding each other.

Finally, he nodded and gave a half bow. “As you wish, milady.”

Her lips curved up at his gesture before she slid into
the back of the yellow cab. The taxi door made only a faint click when she
closed it, but the snick reverberated in his ears as if the door had been
slammed. The psychologically deafening sound echoed the finality of an
unexpected opportunity slipping forever out of his reach.

* * *

Six days later, Michael sat at the large mahogany desk in
his corner office staring blankly out a wall of windows while a tablet stylus
did somersaults between the fingers of his left hand. He was supposed to be
choosing a new second chair for his patent infringement case not browsing the
downtown skyline from his twenty-fifth floor Remington Towers office suite near
Crown Center. Chase currently served as his second chair, but Chase needed to
take the lead in another case because the wife of one of their equity partners
had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and the partner needed time with his
family.

A file folder of forgotten resumes sat open on Michael’s
desk. He’d read through them several times and had narrowed his selection to
one of two candidates. They both looked good on paper, but the non-quantifiable
qualities that didn’t show up on paper meant a lot as well.

This case represented a significant opportunity for his
firm, both in dollars and legal notoriety. He considered it the linchpin in his
strategic plan to launch the firm as a national player in the world of business
litigation. A successful outcome meant instant nationwide publicity for the
lawyers involved. He’d already been interviewed for writeups in prominent legal
and business journals. He needed to make the right choice. Yet, he couldn’t
force his mind to focus on the task at hand.

On days like these, he’d usually take a motorcycle ride to
clear his head. Nothing like speed on an open road to get the blood flowing to
all extremities including his brain. Unfortunately, it was too cold for a ride.
Although this winter’s weather had stayed unusually mild, it would be several
months before the temperature warmed enough to take the bike for a spin. Which
reminded him he needed to make an appointment with his mechanic to get his bike
checked and prepped for the spring riding season.

Michael looked at the electronic tablet on his desk. He made
himself a reminder to get a service appointment then glanced at his court
docket. Maybe he should work on reconciling his calendar. He’d promised his
baby sister he’d attend the annual family Independence Day gathering. He’d
committed to staying for the entire picnic this year and not simply putting in
an appearance then rushing back to the office to bill more hours. He hated to
disappoint Raina, but given the current status of his case, that might be a
tall order.

Michael tossed his stylus onto the desk in frustration. The
opponent’s motion for summary judgment had arrived this morning. The motion
requested the court decide the case in the opponent’s favor because, according
to opponent’s counsel, the factual information exchanged by the parties during
discovery mandated a judgment be entered in its favor by law—no need for
a trial.

If the motion prevailed, it was game over for Metra
Pharmaceuticals. His client would be held liable for patent infringement,
ordered to cease the manufacture and sale of their extremely successful immunotherapeutic
drug Davrosil, and forced to disgorge to the opponent all profits made from
selling the drug.

While this would normally be enough to concern him, today a
whole other distraction worried his brain. A week had passed since he’d touched
her for the first time. Fleeting thoughts of her hounded him from time to time,
but for some reason, today the memory of her wouldn’t leave him alone.
Juliet
.

Where was she? What was she doing? Whom was she doing it
with?

The last question in particular bothered him.

He slid his hand into his right pant pocket and fingered the
sterling silver chain he’d been carrying around for six days. He tended to
finger it absently when his mind wandered to Juliet. He needed to get to work.
If Chase caught him daydreaming about her, Michael would never live it down.
His buddy already ragged him heartlessly, and without remorse, about being hung
up on what Chase had dubbed his “mystery woman.”

Michael knew better. Curious? Definitely. Hung up? Hardly.
He had no intention of letting any woman put the shackles on him. Of course,
you couldn’t tell Chase anything. Chase and his wife had been happily married
for four years before he lost her. Marriage wasn’t for Michael, but he’d more
than love another chance to experience the sumptuous creature he’d kissed by
accident on New Year’s Eve.

He’d searched for her. He’d tried to let it go, let her go,
but by the end of the next day, he’d felt a driving need to find her. The
search had required Chase’s help since Chase had served on the party planning
committee. Chase had contacted every guest and inquired about each of their
companions. Strangely, no one could identify the mystery woman
or
the
original Juliet as legitimate invitees. He and Chase had concluded, on top of
everything else, his Juliet might have crashed the party. It figured.