Page 10 of The Best of Us

Perfect. We made two enemies today.One of the best defense attorneys in New York and possibly one of the city’s wealthiest men.

Once Colin finally retreated, I turned toward problem two of the day. “Come to the kitchen. The least I can do is get you an ice pack while I apologize again.” I used my motherly voice, which meant I wasn’t giving him a choice. He seemed to understand that and followed me into our narrow galley kitchen. “Please, sit.”

We only had a three-person table by the bay window, and when he went over and chosethatseat of all seats, my chest tightened.

When Colin was only six, he’d selected that chair for his dad, saving the one with a semi-wobbly leg for the day he’d show up. Since then, there was an unspoken rule that only his father would be allowed to sit in it.

And although I thought Colin gave up hope he’d ever be in his life, he didn’t give up the chair.

The last thing I needed was for Colin to come into the kitchen and see this man sitting in it, filling it out like it was the perfect fit, even if it was too small for him.

I blinked a few times, trying to keep my composure as the man put his palms on the underside of the seat, shifting around as if realizing it was slightly off-balance.

Doing my best to hush my thoughts and resolve this, I ripped my gaze away from him and swung open the freezer door. I welcomed the blast of cold air on my face.

“Why is this the second time you’re seeking mercy on your son’s behalf today?”

His words had me nearly sticking my whole head into the freezer.Someone wake me up from this nightmare.

“He was in a fight at school. Suspended.” My words were no doubt muffled by the door, which blocked me from his view. I finally snatched the ice pack, closed up, and faced him.

His eyes journeyed from my Nikes to my scrubs, to the messy bun crowning my head, then back to my face. “Have we met before?” His tone had an edge of roughness, like he was trying to draw up a memory and was frustrated by his failure to do so.

Well, that’s how I was feeling, at least. I was probably projecting. “I don’t think so. Um, but maybe?” I finally approached him, offering the ice pack. “I’m Juliette. With a T and E at the end. French spelling. But, seeing how you tracked down my son, you probably already know my name.”Did I really just say all that? Geez.“Your name?”

He looked me up and down again, then leaned back in the seat, and I couldn’t help but notice the lift of his hips as he adjusted his position.

Stop staring at his crotch.I went over to my usual chair and parked myself in it before I broke out into a blush all over my body. I was three-quarters Scottish, and my fair skin had a habit of betraying my emotions by very noticeably pinking it.

“Constantine Costa,” he finally answered.

“Um.” The nervous lip biting didn’t do wonders for concealing my feelings, either. “Is that with a C or a K? Er, um, both names?” When I dared to look at the man, the handsome grin on his face had me stirring in my seat. “I’m sorry.” He was likely smiling at my question in a ha-ha what’s-wrong-with-this-chick way and nothing more. “I work mostly with kids who are missing their two front teeth,” I explained. “Sometimes, I forget who I’m talking to.”

“And what is it that you do?” He brought the ice pack to the side of his face, stretching his jaw muscle from left to right.

“I’m a pediatric nurse at New York-Presbyterian. Lower Manhattan location. Hence the teddy-bear blue scrubs.” I eyed my chipped nails that desperately needed a new coat. “Do you have kids? Maybe you brought them there recently? We’ve only been living here since January, though.”

“No kids.” He set the ice pack on his thigh, staring at me in the strangest way, like someone seeing color for the first time after living in only black and white.

I’m projecting again. But your eyes. That smile. Voice.It was . . . familiar. Intimately so.But it can’t possibly be you.No. No way.

“Where were you before here?” he asked.

I didn’t feel the need to give him an entire play-by-play of my life and accompanying addresses, so I offered up “Florida,” ready to move on.

He lifted one questioning brow and asked, “And his father?”

Not what I was interested in talking about with a stranger, even if he didn’t feel like one. “Not in the picture.” Best I’d give him.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Excuse me?” I stood, my chair sliding back. “Not your business.” While I needed to play nice with him since he could call in the cavalry and have my son arrested, I didn’t owe him answers about my personal life.

“I apologize.” He set the ice pack on the table and rose. Resting a hand over his heart, he requested, “Forgive me?” He lifted his chin, catching my eyes. The sparkle in those deep brownish-black irises was dangerously alluring. And once again, very much familiar.

I toyed with the drawstring of my pants, and he tracked the movement of my fingers, so I let go. “We could consider it a wash. You know, I forgive you for your inappropriate question, and you forgive my son for stealing?”

He hid his hands in his pockets, straightening to his full height. “Feels a little off-balance of a trade.”

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