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“I haven’t invited Mr. McIver up for tea and cookies,” Arden said dryly.
“If you’re a smart woman, you will,” Greta said then gave a gentle tug to Rocky’s leash. “Come along, sweetie. We don’t want to miss Jeopardy.”
“I’m sorry,” Arden apologized to Shaun after Greta and Rocky had disappeared inside the building. “She’s a wonderful lady who just can’t seem to mind her own business.”
“She cares about you,” Shaun said simply.
“She’s obsessed with finding a nice young man for me to settle down with.”
“I got that impression.”
Arden cringed. “What did she say to you?”
“It wasn’t what she said so much as how she said it. Greta Dempsey could teach the members of the Fairweather P.D. a thing or two about interrogation,” he said.
“I am so sorry. She doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not looking to settle down.”
“You don’t want a husband and two-point-two kids and a house with a white picket fence?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Is it my turn to be interrogated?”
He flashed her that quick, sexy smile. “I’m curious about you, Doherty.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
He held up a tape measure. “To take measurements. For your shelves.”
“Oh.”
“You forgot?”
“Actually, I thought you’d forget.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t think you really wanted to build shelves for me.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to,” he told her.
“Then I guess I’ll have to invite you in to take measurements.”
“Am I going to get tea and cookies, too?”
“Cookies,” Arden told him. “I still don’t have any tea.”
“Coffee would be okay,” he suggested. “Maybe some of that Jamaican stuff.”
Arden laughed. “Now I know the real reason for your visit.”
“Just an added bonus,” he assured her.
She opened the front door of the building and led the way up the stairs. Mrs. Dempsey was just coming out of her apartment with a plate heaped with cookies as Arden turned down the hall. She could smell the mouth-watering scents of nutmeg and cinnamon.
She wanted to ask Mrs. Dempsey if she’d seen anyone she didn’t recognize in the building the previous afternoon, but she couldn’t do so in front of Shaun. If she did, he’d know she’d been lying about the envelope coming from her landlord. And she had no intention of discussing the letters with him.
Greta passed off the plate of cookies to Arden and smiled. “Smart girl,” she said in a stage whisper.
“Thank you, Mrs. Dempsey,” Arden said. Then, to clarify, “For the cookies.”
Greta winked at them both. “Enjoy.”
Arden shook her head as she juggled the plate of cookies and her briefcase, trying to reach the keys in her pocket, but she was smiling. Shaun took the cookies, inhaled deeply, and a low hum of pleasure sounded in his throat. The sensual sound caused Arden’s insides to quiver.
She stepped away from him quickly, into the apartment, and set her briefcase down. “Mrs. Dempsey makes fabulous cookies.”
“And oatmeal-raisin are your favorite,” Shaun said.
“How do you know?”
“She told me.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Arden didn’t want to speculate about what else her neighbor might have told him. “That doesn’t mean she has to give me three dozen.”
“She thinks you’re too skinny,” Shaun reminded her, helping himself to a cookie.
“If she wants cuddly, she should get a teddy bear.”
He laughed. “She worries about you. She doesn’t have any children of her own to fuss over.”
Arden measured coffee grinds into the filter. “How long were you talking to her?”
“I didn’t clock the conversation,” he said dryly.
“Approximately?” she prompted.
“Half an hour.” He grinned. “It was…informative.”
“I’ll bet.”
He bit into the cookie, finished it off in two bites and reached for another. “These are fabulous.”
“I’ll send some home with you,” she promised.
“Thanks. Mrs. Fields can’t compare to Mrs. Dempsey.”
Arden smiled and took a cookie for herself. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.” She pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and filled them with fresh-brewed coffee. Then she carried both cups to the table, setting one in front of Shaun.
“I didn’t only stop by to take measurements,” he told her.
Arden sipped her coffee, waiting for further explanation.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay—after yesterday.”
After her breakdown in the park? Or after his kiss? Her answer would be the same in either case, but she chose to accept the first interpretation. Just because she was obsessing over that kiss, she wasn’t going to delude herself into thinking that he was. Shaun McIver probably went around kissing women all the time; she just happened to be the only one in the vicinity last night. What bothered her more than the way he’d kissed her was the way she’d kissed him back. Her response to him had been disproportionate and out of character.
“I’m fine,” she told him.
He nodded. “Good. You look good.” His gaze skimmed over her and he smiled. “A little on the skinny side, but good.”
“You might want to think about whose cookies you’re eating and whose coffee you’re drinking before you start throwing the insults around.”
“I apologize,” he said with mock solemnity.
Arden pushed the cookie plate a little closer to him.
“I was a little concerned when you weren’t here this morning,” Shaun told her.
Arden frowned. She wasn’t comfortable with other people worrying about her. “I told you I was okay.”
He nodded. “Mrs. Dempsey guessed that you were at the women’s shelter. She said that you spend a few hours there a couple of days a month.”
“That’s true.”
“Visiting clients?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes just to talk to the women about their legal options.”
“Can you bill for that?”
“Not everything is about billing,” she said testily.
“It was just a question,” he said. “There’s no need to get defensive.”
She sipped her coffee, considered another cookie.
“I think it’s admirable that you’re willing to share your time and expertise. Not many lawyers do pro bono work anymore.”
“It’s surprising, and depressing, how many clients I get from the shelter.”
“It’s probably reassuring, though, for those clients to meet you in an informal setting. Most people don’t like having to see a lawyer at the best of times. I imagine it would be a lot worse for a woman who’s been abused, having to face someone she’s never met and share the horrors of her life—particularly if the lawyer is a man.”
His insight surprised her. Most people didn’t want to hear about the work she did, didn’t understand her commitment. Still, his sudden interest confused her.
“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about my career, or my crusade, as some call it.”
“Everything about you interests me, Doherty.”
She tilted her head. “Are you hitting on me, McIver?”
“If you have to ask, I’m doing something wrong.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t bother. I don’t date lawyers.”
In fact, she hadn’t dated at all in a long time. But even if she was looking to date someone, even if she was willing to bend the rule, it wouldn’t be for Shaun McIver. Shaun was everything she didn’t want in a man.
“Neither do I,” he admitted, contradicting his earlier statement.
“Your fiancée was a lawyer, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
She nodded. “I could give you a speech about how you shouldn’t let one bad experience disillusion you against a whole profession—but I’m not sure it’s true. Life is a hard lesson, and we should learn what we can from it.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” he said, his dark green eyes intent on her.
She wasn’t happy that the conversation had taken such a personal turn. She didn’t mind talking about his life and his past, but she had no interest in rehashing her own sordid history. “No one lives thirty-one years without having some experience,” she said lightly.
Shaun finished his coffee and pushed away from the table. To Arden’s surprise, he came back with the coffeepot in one hand and the carton of milk in the other. He refilled both of their mugs, then added a splash of milk to her cup.
She stared at her coffee, then at Shaun’s back. It was only the second time he’d been in her kitchen, and yet he moved around as if he was comfortable there, as if he belonged there.
“So tell me about this wealth of experience you’ve acquired in your thirty-one years,” Shaun suggested, when he was again seated beside her.
She gestured around the spartan apartment. “As you can see, it’s not the only wealth I’ve acquired.”
He grinned. “Smart, sexy and a sense of humor.”
“Can you turn off the charm, or does it always flow that easily?”
“Maybe you bring out the best in me.”
“Is that your best?” she challenged.
“Not even close.”
Her lips curved in a reluctant smile.
“If you won’t succumb to my endless charm, how about desperation?”
“Do I look desperate?”
“Not you, me.”
She cupped her mug in her palms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, McIver?”
