He glanced at her as he pulled away from the curb. “And to think I’ve had the impression that I’m complicated. I’m not a show-off. You’re right about that. I love the Mercedes coupe, but this car uses less gas and is kinder to the environment. How did you get to Hagerstown?”
“I drove. State Department gives me a chauffeured car, but I’d rather not use it for personal business, unless I have to. I do use it at night. My car’s a Lexus.” She held up her hand. “I know. I should be helping our environment, but at least I’m helping our employment rate, since that car’s made here.”
“How long does it take you to drive to Hagerstown?”
“An hour and a half or so, but one day I’ll get caught.”
“I won’t go there,” he kidded. “I’m planning on visiting Hagerstown soon to begin looking for my birth parents. I found a birth announcement for a boy who’d be about my age. Coincidently, my adoptive mother was born there.”
Heather didn’t want to discourage Judson, so she said, “You have to look everywhere until you’re successful, so starting with the birth announcement newspaper clipping is as good a place as any. Will you be looking for any relatives?”
“That’s the idea. Some of them may know something.”
“If I can help you in any way, you know I will.”
“I appreciate that. First, I’ll find the names and contact information of African-American newspapers.”
“Judson, you don’t have to research that. Most of that information is available in the local library or the Internet.”
“Thanks. This is very helpful.”
“I think you have an angel on your shoulder. It’s probably not an accident that Scott finally decided to introduce us. He’s told me before that he had a friend he wanted me to meet, but I wasn’t interested.”
He parked in a lot a few doors from the restaurant and walked around to open the door for her. “Thanks for letting me be a gentleman,” he said. “I know you can open the door, get out, close it and also fasten your seat belt by yourself. But it will give me great pleasure to do those things for you. I may be old-fashioned. Is that going to cause a problem for you?”
She thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. It’s when a guy gets too possessive that it becomes a problem.”
“I can well imagine.”
“Let’s just say that he is no longer relevant.”
After entering the restaurant, the maitre d’ seated them, and when Heather looked at the menu, her eyes widened. “This menu is full of things that I love,” she said brightly. In the end, she settled for Parma ham with figs in Marsala wine for a starter and a soup of scallops, lobster, cuttle fish, shrimp, clams and spicy tomato sauce for the main dish. He ordered the same.
Judson strummed his left fingers on the white tablecloth, then leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “You said the guy who got out of line with you is no longer relevant. Was that your choice or his?”
“I told him how I felt, and we agreed that we had no future. If he hadn’t agreed, it still would have been over for me.”
“Is there a man in your life right now?”
“You cut right to the chase. No, there isn’t. My father lectured to me about that today. He’s probably right, but when I focus on something, it takes priority.”
“You mean your career in the State Department?” She nodded. “Don’t you want a family?”
“Of course I do, but I think I can have both.”
“I agree. You can. But not unless you make the effort.” Suddenly, he leaned forward. “The more I see of you and the better I know you, the more I want to know. And there is definitely more than a spark between us.”
“I’m honest, Judson. Yes, there is. But I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I want a diplomatic post.”
“If I can balance a medical malpractice suit, a family fight over a rich man’s will, a case involving banks in different countries and a lawsuit against an accountant and deal with all of them, I’m sure we can manage a get-together from time to time. You’re as smart as I am, maybe smarter. You can handle it. So how about it?”
“I see you’ve figured out how to respond to certain kinds of challenges.”
He lifted her hand, and she noticed not for the first time his long, tapered fingers. They were the beautiful hands of a capable man, and she wondered how they would feel on her naked body. She looked up, and shivers shot through her at the longing in his eyes.
“I know myself, Heather. I know what I want.”
The waiter then brought their first course. She looked at the food covering the dinner plate. “If I eat all this, I won’t want my seafood course.”
“The owners are generous by nature. They’re also forgiving, so leave what you can’t eat.” He called the waiter. “I’d like a bottle of pinot grigio Santa Margherita.” He turned back to Heather. “So, do you know what you want from us?”
She savored the ripe fig. “My, you’re tenacious. No wonder you’re successful. It’s a trait that I admire.”
He stopped eating and looked at her. “You haven’t answered my question.”
She laughed with joy. “Oh, Judson. I’m so glad you called me today. I needed this.”
“Did you need me?”
She gave him a brilliant smile. “Possibly. I’m not sure.”
Outside the restaurant, the warm spring wind brushed his face as he gazed down at the woman beside him. Six weeks earlier, he’d stood in a cool, caressing wind watching as his mother’s friends threw roses at her grave site, thinking that he never again wanted the wind to touch his face. He had loved the woman who took him in and mothered him when someone else hadn’t wanted him, and losing her left an awful hole.
He needed a family of his own making. As he looked at Heather, a smile lit her face, and he took her hand and began walking to his car. Maybe she could fill the void in his life. He wasn’t sure, but he did know that that feeling of loneliness had disappeared.
“It’s early,” he said. “If your day hasn’t tired you out, we could stop by the Eubie Blake National Jazz Institute and Cultural Center for a short while, or—”
“I’d like that. I’m not bubbling with energy, but I won’t turn down an opportunity to hear live jazz.”
“I’m glad you like jazz. I could listen to the great jazz players of the past forever. I have a good collection of their records.”
“Interesting. Of course, I have quite a few Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller and Billie Holiday, but the collections are not nearly complete.”
He squeezed her fingers. “What else do you like?”
“Everything that isn’t ultramodern—classical, opera, blues and country. If I can’t remember it, I don’t want to hear it.”
“If you had asked me that question, my answer would have been just about the same as yours.”
At Eubie Blake’s, he greeted the doorman, tipped him and got a front-row table facing the band. Sipping coffee and apparently lost in the music, Heather didn’t pull away from him holding her hand. He marveled that she seemed to accept that they would have a relationship of some kind so easily.
They spent an hour at the jazz house. As he walked with her from the elevator to the door of her apartment,