Page 4 of 1st Shock
Yes, he’d been separated from his wife for nearly a year, but that was no excuse. I never should’ve done it. I've tried to wipe it from my mind.
But when he's this close? When I smell his aftershave that reminds me of the ocean and see the blue flecks in his gray eyes? I rememberevery momentof our night. The way he touched me, licked me, made me moan. The way we made love over and over again, as if we knew it was a one-time gig. We had to suck every ounce of pleasure from that weekend. And we did.
Worse? I want to do it again.
I lick my lips, having already forgotten JJ's question.
His gaze drops to my mouth. The grin appears. He's spontaneous and fun, like sex was in Milwaukee, and I wish I could be that way too.
But I'm not.
I promise myself no matter how my pulse is going wild and I desperately want a repeat of Milwaukee, I will not sleep with this man again until he's free.
"I brought you a present," JJ says, reaching into his inside breast pocket.
He pulls out an envelope. I open it to find a picture with a phone number. The woman staring back at me is of mixed heritage, her tawny skin decorated with freckles, her bright green eyes in contrast to her dark corkscrew curls.
"Who is she?" What I'm really thinking is,how is this a gift?
"Juanita Jones, works in my office. Adopted right after birth. She was recently diagnosed with stage four lymphoma and it's metastasized. She wants to find her birth parents before she dies, and it appears she’s located the mother."
I'm a genealogist in my spare time. People hire me to find lost relatives or create family trees. Back in the day before the Internet, my dad loved to work on our family tree. When he was on leave from the Army, we often spent Saturday afternoons in the basement at the local library, going through their genealogy collection. Not a big library, but one of the best in the area for tracking down your ancestors. Dad's love of personal history inspired my own. I’ve taken what he started and expanded it to include multiple trees and thousands of records. Once in a while Dad and I still go to the library and spend the afternoon working on other people's.
"She found her mom, so what's the problem?" I ask.
"The birth mother is German and claims the father is Polish."
I glance at the photo, Juanita's skin and hair telling a different DNA story. "People lie all the time about these things. Or block out memories they don't want, like being raped or the fact they slept around and don't actually know who the father is. No name listed on the birth certificate, I take it?"
He shakes his head.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Juanita's willing to pay a lot to get this resolved. Time is an issue, of course. Thought you might be interested. She wants answers, whether you find them through that ancestry website you use, or you help her mom remember the truth."
JJ is good. He knows I love a mystery, and I'm as much of a sucker for helping people as my sister. "I'll give her a call and see what I can do."
He reaches out, touches my cheek. "Next time, I promise to come through the front and check in with you before I talk to Meg, okay?"
Who's being manipulated now? JJ knows how to negotiate, make concessions, and get what he wants. It's how he landed the job he has. If only he could get his wife to let him go.
He doesn't wait for my answer. I watch him leave my office and take a deep breath, forcing my pulse to slow.
I miss him already.
Tossing Juanita's picture on the desktop, I stare at it for a moment, wondering what secrets her mother is keeping, if I'll be able to get the answers she seeks.
"Who's that?" Meg is in my doorway, no doubt checking on me after JJ's departure. She points at the photo on my desk.
"Another person who needs our help."
The haunted look in my sister's eyes reflects my own.
"There are too many, Charlie."
This I know. It's what drives me to get out of bed every morning. "Matt can handle these." I tap the stack of folders. "I'll help with Avery, okay?"
She gives me a tiny smile before heading back to her office. I see the look in her eyes, the one that says we're not so different under the clothes and attitudes. We're both on a mission.
