Trial Courtship

The heck of it is, I really do. “You’re going to tell me anyway, right?”

Shayla chuckled. “Listen up, missy. Mr. Tony Urbanski works for Great Lakes Management Group. He has a cushy job and a flat in one of those pricey warehouses over by the river. He grew up in Detroit and got a university education at Michigan State. He’s been here two years. And now for the best part—” She picked up her drink and took a maddeningly slow sip.

Andrea pursed her lips and threw Shayla an accusing look. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

“I’ve gotta have a little fun, too.”

“Okay.” She enunciated very clearly. “What is the best part?”

“He’s single, never been married, and—” She arched her eyebrows suggestively and leaned forward.

Andrea couldn’t help herself. “What?”

“He asked me all about you.”

Having fair skin was a detriment at times like this. A blush made it impossible to look neutral. But, then, she didn’t feel particularly neutral.

When she turned to walk toward the courtroom, Tony, the phone still clamped to his ear, a broad grin creasing his face, followed her with his eyes.

TONY SPRINTED TO THE BANK after lunch to set up the wire transfer of the five hundred dollars. It had always been like this. His father made good money as a forklift operator, but what he didn’t gamble away, he drank. Early on, Tony had devised a game plan. If he wanted to get ahead, he couldn’t expect help from Pops. He’d have to rely on himself, bust his butt and make it happen. It hadn’t been easy, but he took quiet satisfaction in his success.

Crossing the square on his way back to the courthouse, Tony set aside unpleasant reminders of his past and concentrated on Andrea Evans. With all the subtlety of a battering ram, Shayla Brown had invited him to lunch with her and Andrea. Not that he’d minded. Quite the contrary—the perky blonde was easy to look at Like an inquisitive bird, she had a way of cocking her head when she listened that made him feel as if she really cared, and she exuded...not naiveté exactly...more a zest for life rarely seen in adults. When his eyes strayed, from time to time, to her delicious curves, he felt rather like a ravening wolf creeping up on an unsuspecting lamb.

He’d learned she’d grown up in Shaker Heights, had majored in marketing at Miami University and owned her own toy store. Not bad for such a young woman. A car honked at him, and he stepped back up on the curb. Since moving to Cleveland, he’d had little time for a social life, unless you counted the occasional party like the one Kelli’d had at Halloween. The few women he’d dated had tended to be executive types with an attitude. Andrea’s softness was a definite contrast. A welcome one.

He chastised himself. He hadn’t gotten where he was by worrying about his personal life. Besides, a workaholic like himself shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts about any woman, no matter how temptingly attractive.

That decided, by the time he reached his place in the jury box, he was able to settle back and listen, first to the coroner and then to the fingerprint expert, who established that the print on the murder weapon matched the defendant’s. By the time the judge adjourned for the day, he was beat. Did these people have to pass a nerd test to qualify as expert witnesses?

Outside, sunshine faded to dusk and adjacent office buildings disgorged workers into Public Square. Inexplicably, despite his earlier resolve, he found himself rushing to catch up with Andrea and Shayla. “Hey, what’s your hurry?”

Andrea spun around, the red of her woolen scarf complementing her rosy cheeks. “Oh, hi, Tony. I’m trying to get to the store before my manager closes.” Shayla stood to one side, a knowing look on her face.

“Do you have a minute?” What in the world was he doing? He could almost hear Kelli laughing and saying, “Okay, big boy, what now?” He fumbled for a coherent comment.

Shayla didn’t have any trouble finding something to say. “Funny how circumstances have thrust us all together, isn’t it? I mean, how else would the two of you have met? And if you’ll pardon my interference, I think you should make the most of it.” She grinned smugly.

“I beg your pardon?” Tony said.

“Shayla—” Andrea protested.

The older woman ignored them both and hurtled on. “Never a good idea to ignore Lady Luck.” With her thumb and forefinger, she picked up Andrea’s wrist and held it out for inspection. “Tony, this skinny little gal needs fattening up. Why don’t you take her to dinner?”

Andrea shifted uncomfortably, pulling her arm away. “Really, Shayla, I’m sure Tony has plans of his own.” She looked pointedly at him. “Don’t you?”

A conference with Barry, letters to sign...but he’d be through in an hour or so. “Actually, no,” he found himself saying. “How about it, Andrea?” Was he out of his mind?

Shayla beamed. “Well, then. That’s settled.” She glanced up at the Terminal Building clock. “Oops, gotta run or I’ll miss my train.” And she was gone.

Andrea edged after her. “Wait.”

Tony stopped her. “I’m serious.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m free. How about you?”

She fingered the strap of her shoulder bag. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

“Do I need a character reference?”

She smiled. “No, Shayla’s checked you out. It’s not that—”

“Then what?”

“This jury thing.” She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, it would be fraternizing. I don’t think we should compromise the process.”

She hadn’t turned him down...yet. And this was one argument he could handle. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t planning on discussing the case.”

“No, of course not. The judge made that very clear.”

“So—” he tucked her arm in his and started toward the Rapid station “—I don’t see what harm there would be in some off-duty socializing.” Harm? Hell, he couldn’t wait.

She glanced up at him, her expression wary. “You promise you won’t bring up the case?”

He crossed his heart. “I promise. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Because of the short notice, the ‘you’ will have to include Nicky.”

“Nicky?” Who the hell was Nicky?

She seemed to be enjoying his bewilderment. “Nicky’s my nine-year-old nephew and he’ll make a wonderful chaperon.”

Oh. “That’s great.”

“We’ll be at Never-Never Land.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Never-Never Land.”

“Should I fly in?”

She laughed merrily. “That won’t be necessary. I forgot. You don’t know. That’s the name of my store in Shaker Square.”

He cracked a wry smile. “What a relief. For a minute there I was afraid you and Peter Pan had flitted off to Honalee along with Puff.”

As they neared the ticket booth, she gave him the address. Then she turned and laid a hand on his arm. “You’re sure this is okay?”