He felt sorry for Yesenia. He truly did, but he did not want to be party to removing a child, any child, from Lori’s care. He didn’t want to have to use Lori’s past against her. He didn’t want to be responsible for causing her more pain. Most of all, he did not want to be considered her adversary. Just the opposite, in fact.
It all meant that he could not adequately represent Yesenia.
He had to resign the case.
Relief swept through him. A weight he hadn’t known he carried lifted from his shoulders. Both reinforced his conclusion. He must resign. He no longer had any business representing Yesenia in this.
Ethically he should tell Yesenia of his decision first, but Ramon wanted Lori to know right away. Perhaps it was selfish on his part, he mused, watching the way she flipped her glossy, full-bodied hair out of Lucia’s reach. No, it was definitely selfish on his part. His resignation wouldn’t really change anything for anyone but him.
Yesenia had a strong case and she would undoubtedly hire another attorney; he was duty-bound to recommend one. In fact, he already had a name in mind—proof, he supposed, that he’d been considering this move on some level before he’d dared even acknowledge it to himself.
He looked at Lori, so fit and trim in her modest shorts and double tank, her bare feet shod in sensible running shoes, her thick, sleek hair held back by a thin, stretchy red band and her smile lighting her pretty face. She wore not a dab of cosmetics today, her lashes glinting dark gold around her light green eyes, her full, lush lips a natural, dusky rose.
Suddenly it seemed imperative that he make her understand that they were no longer to be considered adversaries. Wondering where they might find a moment of privacy, he stood and reached down, pulling her up bedside him, one hand fixed firmly beneath her upper arm.
She gaped at him, but then she blinked and, maddeningly, her gaze slid right past him. The next thing he knew she’d disengaged herself and was carrying Lucia toward the stroller.
“I have to go,” she said. “Thank you so much for a lovely lunch, Rita. Have a good day, everyone!”
While his family called out farewells, Ramon went after her. He reached her side and barely stopped himself from grasping the handle of the stroller to keep her in place. She glanced up, surprise and something very like alarm flashing across her face, but then she turned her attention back to settling Lucia in the stroller, and he knew that he had to do—say—something.
“I’ll, um, walk with you.”
She opened her mouth as if she might actually object, but then she glanced once more over her shoulder, shrugged and took off. “Suit yourself.”
He barely had time to flip a wave at his family before following. Wherever they were off to, they were getting there quickly, as quickly as a baby and stroller would allow. Ramon shrugged inwardly and picked up his pace, as curious as determined now.
Chapter Four
“I take it we’re not out for a casual stroll,” Ramon observed dryly, catching up to Lori as she paused to look around.
She startled as if she’d forgotten he even existed. Ramon set his teeth, torn between irritation and pure chagrin. Baby Lucia made a mewling sound and Lori instantly—and conveniently—responded. “It’s okay, sweetie.”
After adjusting the baby’s safety harness, Lori set off at a slower pace, her gaze sweeping the area once more. Ramon considered just letting her go, but for some reason he found himself falling into step beside her. Suddenly she veered the stroller to the right, picking up speed again.
Ramon followed her line of gaze and caught sight of a jostling group of people. At its center stood a tall, slender, raven-haired man wearing a gray sport jacket over a paler polo shirt and matching slacks. The man flashed a practiced, brilliant white smile at a petite woman who thrust a scrap of paper at him. That’s when Ramon recognized him as the host of a popular local television talk show, Douglas Matthews.
Ramon had forgotten that Matthews would be filming his show from the park today. He’d read about it in the newspaper, but he rarely had time for watching television himself, especially daytime television, so the notice hadn’t made much impression on him. That apparently was not the case with the press, however.
Scuttlebutt had it that the show, Afternoons with Douglas Matthews, would soon go national. With his blue-eyed good looks and suave manner, Matthews drew attention like honey drew flies; naturally, that garnered interest from the press corps. Add in talk of national syndication, and it became a veritable circus.
Obviously, Lori intended to join the throng following the TV personality. Ramon felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow he’d thought Lori was above that kind of thing. She just didn’t seem the sort who’d idealize celebrities. Yet her attention had definitely fixed on Matthews, because as the TV host moved along the gently winding path toward a cordoned-off set in the distance, Lori went after him at a near run, jogging along behind the stroller.
Matthews stopped to work the crowd again, hastily signing autographs while reporters peppered him with questions and he tossed off answers. Ramon let his feet carry him to Lori’s side once more, not that she seemed to notice. She’d gone up on tiptoe to get a better look.
“Is the show going national?” someone asked.
“Let’s just say the chances are looking better and better.”
“When is the show going national?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Care to tell us which network?”
“I’d love to tell you which network, but I’m not allowed.”
“How do your wife and son feel about you stepping up into the big time?”
That question, for some reason, elicited a visceral response. Ramon could actually feel the shift in Matthews. His head came up sharply and for a moment that high-wattage smile dimmed. The talk-show host quickly reverted to type, but the smile looked a tad strained now.
“They’re just fine with it. In fact, they’re excited about it. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I see they’re absent today. That’s getting to be a habit, isn’t it?”
The reporter who’d asked the telltale questions slouched casually over his pad and pen, but the pose did nothing to diminish the sense of poisonous innuendo. Though balding and slight, with narrow, sloping shoulders, the fellow put Ramon in mind of a shark. Having scented blood in the water often enough himself, Ramon recognized the species.
The TV star lost his smile, his eyes narrowing, but the next instant Matthews was “on” again, all affable charm. His voice smoothed, resonating parental concern.
“My son’s got a little sunburn. You know how it is. Four-year-olds are sensitive. We were tossing a ball around in the backyard and lost track of time. Nothing serious, but we didn’t want him out in the sun again today. Like I told my wife, we don’t want to set the boy up for skin cancer twenty years down the road, now do we?”
Ramon had to hand it to the guy. He’d wielded the brush adroitly, taking the teeth out of the innuendo and painting himself as a conscientious family man in the same stroke. Yet, the picture struck Ramon as fatuous. Matthews reinforced that impression by turning abruptly, announcing that he was needed elsewhere and quickly striding away.
A dozen or so die-hard admirers followed him. The reporter who’d brought him to heel stayed behind, however, scribbling madly on his pad. Lori turned to Ramon.
“Stay here.”
He cocked his head, surprised that she was even aware of his presence. Besides, it had been, well, years since anyone, in or out of a judge’s robe, had given him such a blunt, direct order. Feeling rather like an obedient pet, Ramon