“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mary Jo said, catching herself.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No problem,” the other woman said with a friendly smile. She held the child protectively against her hip. The little boy, dressed in a blue-and-white sailor suit, looked up at her with eyes that were dark and solemn. Dark as rich Swiss chocolate.
Evan’s eyes.
Mary Jo stared at the tall lovely woman. This was Jessica, Evan’s wife, and the baby in her arms was Evan’s son. The flash of pain nearly paralyzed her.
“I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door,” Jessica went on to say. “My husband insisted he was taking us to lunch, and asked me to meet him here.”
“You must be Jessica Dryden,” Mary Jo said, finding the strength to offer her a genuine smile. She couldn’t take her eyes off Evan’s son. He now wore a cheerful grin and waved small chubby arms. If circumstances had been different, this child might have been her own. The void inside her widened; she’d never felt so bleak, so empty.
“This is Andy.” Jessica did a small curtsy with her son in her arms.
“Hello, Andy.” Mary Jo gave him her hand, and like a proper gentleman, he took it and promptly tried to place it in his mouth.
Jessica laughed softly. “I’m afraid he’s teething. Everything goes to his mouth first.” She walked with Mary Jo toward the exit, bouncing the impatient toddler against her hip. “You look familiar,” she said casually. “ Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so. My name’s Mary Jo Summerhill.”
Jessica’s face went blank, then recognition swept into her eyes as her smile slowly evaporated. Any censure, however, was quickly disguised.
“It was nice meeting you,” Mary Jo said quickly, speeding up as they neared the door.
“Evan’s mentioned you,” Jessica said.
Mary Jo stopped suddenly. “He has?” She couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the better of her.
“Yes. He…thought very highly of you.”
That Jessica used the past tense didn’t escape Mary Jo. “He’s a top-notch attorney.”
“He’s wonderful,” Jessica agreed. “By the way, I understand we have a mutual friend. Earl Kress.”
Earl had been a volunteer at Mary Jo’s school. He’d tutored slow readers, and she’d admired his patience and persistence, and especially his sense of humor. The children loved him.
Earl mentioned Evan’s name at every opportunity. He seemed to idolize Evan for taking on his civil suit against the school district—and winning.
Earl had graduated from high school functionally illiterate. Because he was a talented athlete, he’d been passed from one grade to the next. Sports were important to the schools, and the teachers were coerced into giving him passing grades. Earl had been awarded a full-ride college scholarship but suffered a serious knee injury in football training camp two weeks after he arrived. Within a couple of months, he’d flunked out of college. In a landmark case, Earl had sued the school district for his education. Evan had been his attorney.
The case had been in the headlines for weeks. During the trial, Mary Jo had been glued to the television every night, anxious for news. As a teacher, she was, of course, concerned with this kind of crucial education issue. But in all honesty, her interest had less to do with Earl Kress than with Evan. Following the case gave her the opportunity to see him again, even if it was only on a television screen and for a minute or two at a time.
She’d cheered when she heard that Earl had won his case.
In the kind of irony that life sometimes tosses, Mary Jo met Earl about a year later. He was attending college classes and volunteering part-time as a tutor at the grade school. They’d become quick friends. She admired the young man and missed him now that he’d returned to the same university where he’d once failed. Again he’d gone on a scholarship, but this time it was an academic one.
“Yes, I know Earl,” Mary Jo said.
“He mentioned working with you to Evan. We were surprised to learn you weren’t married.”
Evan knew! He’d made her squirm and forced her to tell him the truth when all along he’d been perfectly aware that she was still single. Mary Jo’s hands knotted at her sides. He’d taken a little too much delight in squeezing the information out of her.
“Darling,” a husky male voice said from behind Mary Jo. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” He walked over to Jessica, lifted Andy out of her arms and kissed her on the cheek.
Mary Jo’s jaw fell open as she stared at the couple.
“Have you met my husband?” Jessica asked. “Damian, this is Mary Jo Summerhill.”
“How…hello.” Mary Jo was so flustered she could barely think.
Evan wasn’t married to Jessica. His brother was.
CHAPTER TWO
“CAN YOU HELP US ?” Norman Summerhill asked Evan anxiously.
Mary Jo had brought both her parents. Evan was reading over the agreement her father had signed with Adison Investments. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she noticed he was frowning. The frown deepened the longer he read.
“What’s wrong?” Mary Jo asked.
Her mother hands were clenched so tightly that her fingers were white. Financial affairs confused and upset Marianna Summerhill. From the time Marianna had married Norman, she’d been a housewife and mother, leaving the financial details of their lives to her husband.
Mary Jo was fiercely proud of her family. Her father might not be a United States senator, but he was an honest and honorable man. He’d dedicated his life to his wife and family, and worked hard through the years to provide for them. Mary Jo had been raised firmly rooted in her parents’ love for each other and for their children.
Although close to sixty, her mother remained a beautiful woman, inside and out. Mary Jo had inherited her dark hair and brown eyes and her petite five-foot-four-inch frame. But the prominent high cheek-bones and square jaw were undeniably from her father’s side of the family. Her brothers towered above her and, like her parents, were delighted their youngest sibling was a girl.
That affection was returned. Mary Jo adored her older brothers, but she knew them and their quirks and foibles well. Living with five boys—all very different personalities—had given her plenty of practice in deciphering the male psyche. Evan might have come from a rich, upper-crust family, but he was a man, and she’d been able to read him like a book from the first. She believed that her ability to see through his playboy facade was what had originally attracted her to him. That attraction had grown and blossomed until…
“Come by for Sunday dinner. We eat about three, and we’d enjoy getting to know you better,” her mother was saying. “It’d be an honor to have you at our table.”
The words cut into Mary Jo’s thoughts like a scythe through wheat. “I’m sure Evan’s too busy for that, Mother,” she blurted out.
“I appreciate the invitation,” Evan said, ignoring Mary Jo.
“You’re welcome to stop off at the house any time you like, young man,” her father added, sending his daughter a glare of disapproval.
“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind,” Evan said absently as he returned his attention to the investment papers. “If you don’t object, I’d like an attorney friend of mine to read this over. I should have an answer for you in the next week or so.”
Her