“This is a one-time offer,” he said. “One of the Lawford attorneys offering to help a prosecutor, pro bono.”
She laughed again, and right there, found herself caught in the old spell all over again. The one that had made her abandon her structured life and go along with Nick’s crazy Vegas plan. But this idea wasn’t crazy; it was merely a partnership. “How very charitable of you.”
“It’s not charity. After all, weren’t we always better together than apart?”
“Maybe in school, in classes, we worked well together, but not as a couple. You know that, Nick,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve been happily divorced for three years.”
He arched a brow, cynicism written all over his features, and she wondered if maybe the end of the marriage hadn’t been the relief to him that she’d always told herself it had been. “Happily?”
“Divorce was what we both wanted. We agreed it was a stupid mistake and the best thing was to undo it as fast as possible. Tell no one, forget it ever happened. Pretend we’d never met. Remember?” Carolyn remembered those words, the argument that had accompanied that moment, and most of all, the look of pained disappointment in Nick’s eyes. It had surprised her, because she’d thought Nick hadn’t taken their bolt to the altar seriously at all—hadn’t thought Nick took anything seriously.
“I remember our ending as being more like removing a bandage, quick and a little painful.”
“Well, it’s over now, and we’ve both moved on, right?”
“Of course. And presumably, we’ve matured since then.”
“Have you?” she asked.
He grinned. “Not a bit.”
She chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”
“Ah, but that’s what keeps my life fun. And makes for entertainment in the courtroom.”
She just shook her head. Nick was exactly the same.
Over the years, Carolyn had managed to avoid seeing Nick, as much as was possible in the relatively small Lawford legal community. It helped that they worked in two entirely different areas of law—criminal and corporate.
When they did see each other, they exchanged nothing more than a simple nod, a few words of greeting.
Wearing a suit, he was devastatingly handsome. Powerful. In boxers and barechested, he was—
Irresistible. Sexy.
Luckily, today he was wearing a two-button navy suit with a white shirt and dark-crimson tie. It fit him perfectly, hugging over the broad shoulders and defined chest she knew existed beneath the fine fabrics. As did, apparently, the rest of the female population in the store, women who made little secret of staring at Nick. And why not? Nick Gilbert was the kind of man women noticed.
Carolyn returned to the matter at hand, drawing herself up. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping,” she said. “It was nice to see you again. Good night, Nick.”
She made moves to leave, but Nick took a step closer. “You don’t want to shop together? Are you afraid?”
“Afraid of what?”
“Working together. Don’t tell me the great Bulldog of Lawford isn’t up to the challenge of a little shopping trip with her ex. For a good cause, I might add.”
Her chin went up a notch. “I can certainly shop with you.”
“And not be at all affected by my winning personality.” He grinned. And damn if that smile didn’t whisper a temptation to take a dip in the pool of fun again. Just for a second.
“What winning personality?” She gave him a slight teasing smile back. “I heard you lost your last two cases.”
“Are you keeping track of my career, Miss Duff?”
“Of course not.”
“One might think you are. Otherwise, why would a city prosecutor care what a corporate lawyer is up to?”
Her chin rose a little higher. “Just making sure you’re staying in check, Mr. Gilbert, and not breaking any rules.”
He grinned. “And when have you ever known me to stay in check?”
The memory danced into the forefront of her thoughts. The first time she’d met Nick Gilbert. She’d been leaving the university library, overloaded and overwhelmed, books piled in her arms, preparation for a marathon study session for the upcoming bar exam.
She’d transferred to the Indiana school just a month earlier, and found the transition to be difficult, the adjustment harder than she’d expected. She’d made the best of the change, as she always had of every situation in her life—because she didn’t have a choice.
She’d been financially cut off in Boston and had opted for the only school that had offered her a partial scholarship and a tuition she could afford.
But she’d had difficulty fitting in among the informal Midwesterners who didn’t understand the stiff-upper-lip Bostonian. One month in, and Carolyn had yet to make any friends. As she’d crossed the campus, she’d felt the stares of the other students. Her step had caught on a bump in the sidewalk, the books began to fall—
And then Nick Gilbert came along.
He’d stood out in a sea of brown and navy like a neon sign. He’d rushed over, righted the books and done the most insane thing she could have imagined to set her at ease.
He’d made a quarter disappear.
But in that simple, unexpected magic trick, Nick had won her over and made everything Carolyn had to face seem so much less daunting.
“So, what’ll it be?” Nick asked. “Tough it out on our own in the wilds of the toy department or join forces?”
Carolyn met Nick’s gaze and smiled, caught up in the old magic once again. “All right, I’ll shop with you, but only because you are so clearly hopeless at this.”
“Oh, I see, take pity on the man. Is that it?”
A bubble of laughter escaped her, filling Carolyn with a lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks, months. How she craved that feeling, yet at the same time, felt the urge to flee. “Don’t you need pity, Mr. Burp-or-Cry?”
“Oh, I need more than that, Carolyn.”
The way he said her name, with that husky, all-male tone, the kind that spoke of dark nights, tangled sheets, hot memories, sent a thrill running through Carolyn, sparked images she’d thought she’d forgotten. But, oh no, she hadn’t forgotten at all. She’d merely pushed those pictures to the side, her mind waiting—waiting for a moment like this to bring them to the forefront, like an engine that had idled all this time.
How she wished she were in a courtroom instead of a toy store. That was the world she knew, could predict. But Nick Gilbert was about as predictable as a tiger in a butcher shop.
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“Playing house,” Carolyn said, popping into action. “That’s what we need.”
Nick arched a brow. “You and me? Play house? I thought we already tried that and it didn’t work so well.”
“Not us. For…” Her mind went blank. Looking at Nick, thinking of playing house…oh, why had she thought she could do this? Just being here was a mistake. But she’d already made the deal and couldn’t renegotiate. Not with a lawyer and especially not with this one. “I meant for the child you’re sponsoring. Little girls, they like to play house. Pretend to go to the grocery store, set the