Page 49 of A Legal Affair
April nodded, biting her lip worriedly as she backed away. “I—I’ll let her know, Professor Thorne.”
He nodded shortly and finished shoving lecture notes into his messenger bag before stalking out of the classroom.
Shara caught up to him in the bustling corridor. “Hey there,” she greeted him above the noisy din of conversation and laughter. “I tried to reach you all weekend.”
“I was at the ranch,” he muttered distractedly. “How’s Devon doing?”
“Not so great. When I left home this morning, he was sleeping like a baby, poor thing. I’m going home to check on him after my next class.”
Caleb nodded, holding the door open for her and then following her from the building.
“When he’s feeling better,” Shara said, “I was thinking we could reschedule our date. Are you free on Friday?”
Caleb nodded at a student who called a greeting to him across the courtyard. “Let me check my schedule and get back to you,” he told Shara.
“All right,” she murmured, looking a little deflated.
Ever since her acrimonious divorce seven years ago, she’d been searching for a father figure for her twelve-year-old son. She was more than pleased when Devon took an instant liking to Caleb. The two had bonded over the years, attending basketball games together and grabbing an occasional meal when Shara had to work late. Devon Adler was a bright, outgoing kid whom Caleb liked a great deal, but he had no plans to marry the boy’s mom simply to fill the void left by his absent father. It would do them all a disservice in the long run.
When Caleb and Shara reached the law faculty building, he walked unerringly to his office and shut the door behind him.Dropping his messenger bag to the floor, he sank into the chair behind his desk and logged on to the computer.
His mouth was set in a grim line as he opened a file he’d been working on that morning. He had a shit-ton of things to do, more than enough to keep his mind off beautiful, troublesome women who skipped class in order to play house with their boyfriends.
17
Daniela stepped from the steamy shower and wrapped her body in a thick cotton towel.
She’d spent the entire weekend in bed, alternately sleeping and tossing fitfully between the sheets. On Sunday, Noah showed up to relieve Janie of duty. Heedless of his sister’s protests, he’d planted himself on the living room sofa and become immersed in mounds of paperwork while his “patient” slept in the next room.
Their mother had called from Houston. Upon learning of Daniela’s illness, she’d promptly decided to cut her trip short. But Daniela—not wanting to cheat her mother of spending time with her sister—talked her out of returning home by agreeing to let Sister Jenkins stop by the house to pray over her.
She was barely lucid as the sweet, diminutive churchwoman stood at her bedside, eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped tightly together while Noah hovered in the doorway with his head bent in reverent silence, lips quirking with suppressed laughter.
What Magdalena Jenkins lacked in stature, she more than made up for in volume. As she prayed over Daniela, her deep voice resonated with authority, booming so loudly through the house that Daniela feared the neighbors would call the policeto report a domestic disturbance. Once Sister Jenkins finished petitioning God for His healing mercies, she’d smiled sweetly at Daniela and Noah, then left with barely a whisper.
Daniela fell asleep afterward, and didn’t awaken until five o’clock on Monday evening—eight hours later. As she climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to take a shower, she felt noticeably better than she had all weekend. Although she automatically attributed her improved condition to the long hours of rest she’d gotten, she couldn’t help smiling at the memory of Sister Jenkins’s morning visit. She wondered if, indeed, her mother was right about the woman’s intercessory prayer gift.
After moisturizing her freshly washed hair with coconut-scented curl defining cream, Daniela dressed in pink high-cut boy shorts and a matching tank top emblazoned with the famous quote “Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History.”
She threw on her comfy chenille robe, then made her way to the kitchen. Noah had checked her mail and stacked the letters neatly on the breakfast table before leaving for work that morning.
While Daniela was listening to her phone messages and sorting through junk mail, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Janie, who’d promised to stop by that evening to check on her, Daniela went to answer the door.
“What, you lost your key or some?—”
The teasing admonition died on her lips when she saw who stood on her doorstep.
Not Janie, as she’d expected, but Caleb Thorne.
Caleb.
At her house.
Her eyes widened in shock. “W—What’re you doing here?” she stammered.
Hands thrust into the pockets of low-slung Levi’s that hugged the thick muscles of his thighs, he cocked a heavy brow at her. “Expecting someone else?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I was.” Self-conscious, she tugged the lapels of her robe together and repeated, “What’re you doing here?”
