Return to Me Page 3

  They entered the building and Jonathan started for his office, but stopped when LaKeisha called out to him.

  “Hey, before you go in there, I—” The phone rang. She held up a finger. “One minute.” She took the call, directing whoever was on the other end of the line to his partner, Harrison Holmes’s voicemail. She started to speak again, but another call came in.

  Jonathan fixed himself a cup of coffee while he waited, offering one to Nicolas. Once done with her call, LaKeisha came over to the coffee station that sat on a side table in the parlor that served as Campbell & Holmes’s lobby.

  “Busy start to the afternoon, huh?” Jonathan asked.

  “It’s been a madhouse,” LaKeisha said. “Oh, and you have a visitor in your office, though I’d rather not say her name,” she finished with a bite to her tone.

  He nearly choked on the coffee he’d just sipped. “Pardon me?”

  “Don’t worry, she hasn’t been waiting long. Only ten minutes or so. I was supposed to text but then the water delivery came and there was a discrepancy with the order, and then we got bombarded with calls.” She held up a hand. “Before I forget, the court date on the Nunez case has been pushed back again. I added it to your calendar, but I know how you are about checking it.” She released a deep breath, her shoulders sagging. “And, so, yeah, they’re in your office.”

  “They?” Jonathan’s head lurched back. “There’s two people?”

  LaKeisha nodded. “I asked them to go directly to your office because I have someone coming in to give an estimate on reupholstering the furniture in the parlor.” As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door. “And there he is,” LaKeisha said, moving past Jonathan. “Again, sorry about not texting,” she called over her shoulder.

  Jonathan nodded while trying to convince his stomach to unknot. The thought of Ivana sitting in his office at this very moment sent his nerves into a tailspin.

  He sucked in a fortifying breath and braced himself as he continued toward his office. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel nervous about seeing her again. He shouldn’t feel anything, dammit.

  He looked back at Nicolas and motioned for him to follow. “Come with me. I’ll get you the files on that case I mentioned.”

  Jonathan entered the office and stopped short.

  Ivana sat in one of the wingback chairs in the small seating area next to the window. In the opposite chair sat a guy who couldn’t be older than thirty, with a mop of curly red hair that brushed against his forehead. They both held ceramic mugs and were deep in conversation, their heads tilted toward each other. It was obvious neither heard him come in.

  Jonathan cleared his throat and Ivana and her companion jumped to attention. They immediately stood.

  “Hello,” Ivana said.

  He nodded, then motioned for them to have a seat in the chairs that faced his desk. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  He took more time than necessary shuffling through the files stacked neatly atop his leather blotter. He needed the extra seconds to collect himself. Once he was sure he could sit in the same room with Ivana without losing his mind, he handed several folders to Nicolas, instructing him to read over the case and be ready for a discussion later this afternoon. He waited for him to exit the office before finally turning his full attention to Ivana and her redheaded companion.

  A kaleidoscope of varied sensations washed over him. The only time he ever experienced these feelings was when he was in her presence—this overwhelming sense of excitement, anticipation and awe. But now, those feelings were accompanied by a few others, the most prominent being a hostility he had a hard time containing. He cursed all these feelings to hell and fixed his features to show nothing but indifference.

  Jonathan cut right to the chase. He didn’t want this meeting to last a minute longer than necessary.

  “You said you needed to speak to me when you came by on yesterday,” Jonathan opened, settling his backside on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. “What about?”

  She sat up straighter and placed her folded hands in her lap.

  “I need your help,” she stated. “Well, actually, it’s Angus who needs your help.” She motioned to the young redhead. “I know it’s somewhat bold of me to ask you for help, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  He stretched a hand out to Angus. “Jonathan Campbell.”

  “Angus Thomson,” the man answered, his grip strong. He spoke in an accent Jonathan couldn’t quite place. He’d expected to hear a Scottish brogue or a craggy Irish lilt, but this was something different. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Are you two coworkers? Friends?”

  “I’m Ivana’s husband.”

  Jonathan nearly slipped off the desk, his limbs suddenly going weak. Shock ricocheted throughout his body.

  “Not my husband,” Ivana quickly interjected. “We don’t have to say that anymore, remember?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, sorry. I forgot.” Angus shook his head, his pale skin taking on a pinkish hue. “We’re not really married.”

  Jonathan swallowed past the knot of painful, indescribable emotion wedged in his throat. “Either of you care to explain exactly what’s going on here?” he asked.

  “This may take a while to explain,” Ivana said. “Are you sure you want to get into the details right now? I know this is last minute. It’s okay if you need us to come back when you have more time in your schedule.”

  “You’re here,” Jonathan said. “I’d like to avoid you coming back at all if possible.”

  She flinched.

  Jonathan’s first instinct was to apologize for his curt tone, but he fought the urge. His delivery could have been less harsh, but he meant the words. He agreed to see her this one time, but he didn’t want Ivana coming around.

  She nodded. “That’s fair.” She sucked in a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Let me start by reassuring you that Angus and I are not married. I’d suggested it as a possible solution to his staying in the country, but we both know it isn’t right. That’s why we’re here now. We’re hoping you can provide some legal advice. That’s all I’m asking for. Advice and nothing else.”

  The pounding in her chest was reminiscent of how her heart would race after a five mile trek through the mountains of Hispaniola. As she listened to Angus explaining his dilemma, Ivana fought to control the nerves roiling in the pit of her stomach. She’d debated the wisdom of coming here. She had prepared Angus beforehand, cautioning him that they were likely to receive a no from Jonathan.

  But that hadn’t happened. Yet.

  In all honesty, she was surprised they were even still here. Ivana had fully expected Jonathan to dismiss them based on the simple fact that this wasn’t his area of legal expertise. Instead, he’d sat in the leather-covered desk chair and asked for more information. And Angus, being Angus, took it as an invitation to tell an abbreviated version of his life story.

  Granted, it was a remarkable life story. At first glance, one would never expect the baby-faced redhead, with peaches and cream skin and adorable freckles, to have spent his adolescence living with his missionary parents in Thailand and Indonesia after spending his formative years in his birthplace of Johannesburg.

  Angus’s plurinational background was the reason they were here today. His South African and Thai passports had both been flagged at some time during his years of relief work in Haiti, which had caused some sort of hiccup with his US visa status. He had exactly one week before he would be forced to leave the country. The problem was that the woman of his dreams, a beautiful Thai girl he’d gone to high school with, was currently in Los Angeles, studying medicine at UCLA. It was Angus’s hope to spend his two-month sabbatical from relief work visiting Phawta and to propose to her on her birthday in April. This business with his G-1 diplomatic visa status put a huge wrinkle in his plans.

  “I thought if Ivana and I were married, it would at least give me more time in the country,” Angus was saying now.
“People do it all the time, you know.”

  “But I pointed out to him that it wasn’t realistic, nor is it legal,” Ivana said.

  “I don’t think Phawta would like it either,” Angus said.

  “No, she would not,” she agreed. She looked to Jonathan. His expressionless eyes seemed to look right through her, as if she were a stranger. Clearing the emotion in her throat that had welled up out of nowhere, Ivana said, “I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but I was hoping you could give us some direction on how to go about straightening things out with his visa.”

  “Before we go any further, maybe I should explain to him what happened the last time I tried to get a dual intent visa,” Angus interjected.

  “That sounds like an important part of the story,” Jonathan said, motioning for him to continue.

  While Angus resumed his account of his immigration woes, Ivana’s eyes roamed the office, soaking in the familiarity of it. How many times had she visited him here in the two years they were together? Too many to count.

  And because torturing herself with the memories she’d made with Jonathan had become her new pastime since her return to New Orleans, it was inevitable that her mind would drift to some of the things they’d done together in this office. Those stolen moments they’d shared when she would slip away from the stand where she sold incense in the French Market, just a couple of blocks away. They’d blessed every surface of this office, making love on top of the desk, in his desk chair, on the sofa that once sat against the wall near the fireplace.

  Ivana looked over to the area where the sofa once stood and realized it had been replaced by a sideboard table. Then she looked closer at his desk and noticed that it too had been replaced. The previous one had been made of a much darker wood, a rich mahogany that she’d helped him pick out during a shopping trip at the antique shops in St. Francisville. That desk had cost over three thousand dollars, and was the type that should have lasted him for decades, not just a few years.

  A noxious feeling began to develop in her stomach when she realized the chair he now sat in was different too. Had he purposely expunged everything in this office that reminded him of her? Was it his intent to erase all the memories they’d made?

  Maybe she was reading too much into this. There was probably a perfectly good explanation behind his decision to change out all the furniture. Maybe there had been a water leak that ruined the previous desk, chair and sofa. It had happened once before and he’d been forced to repair a portion of the ceiling and the hardwood floors.

  She looked up at the ceiling, searching for any sign that work had been done on it. It hadn’t. This ceiling was the same. There was a slightly off-white swatch, a remnant of the previous repair job. Ivana was well acquainted with that spot. It resided directly in her line of vision whenever he would lay her back on his desk.

  She sucked in a painful breath at the memory.

  When she looked to Jonathan, she found him staring at her with a raised brow. He glanced up at the ceiling, a questioning look on his face. Ivana would rather die than to have him figure out the thoughts that had been going through her head.

  “So, do you think you can help Angus?” she asked.

  “First, I need to know how much you charge per hour?” Angus interjected. “Helping to rebuild homes in Haiti is rewarding, but the pay is not.”

  “I told you not to worry about the money,” Ivana said. She turned to Jonathan. “I’m going to help him with the legal fees in whatever way I can. It’s important that he is able to spend time with Phawta.”

  “She’s right,” Angus said. “We only have six weeks left before we have to return.”

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. “You’re here for another six weeks?”

  The perturbed edge to his tone stung. She sat up straight, lifting her chin slightly.

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here,” Ivana said, answering as truthfully as she could without giving away too much. Her time at home was still up in the air. “A relief group that normally works in Guatemala is currently serving our village, but they will be leaving soon.”

  “I have to go to Phawta before I go back to Haiti,” Angus pleaded. “I haven’t seen my girl since we met up in Thailand to celebrate Songkran. That was ten months ago. I can’t take a chance flying to California with my passport situation the way it is, and it would take me days to drive there.”

  “He also doesn’t have a driver’s license, so he can’t drive there,” Ivana said in an admonishing voice.

  “That too,” Angus said.

  “Is there anything that can be done?” Ivana asked.

  Jonathan leaned back in his chair and rapped his pen against the desk. Several long moments stretched between them before he tossed the pen aside, straightened in his chair and folded his hands over the blotter on his desk.

  “As you know, this isn’t the kind of law I practice. However,” he said, his attention on Angus, “karma may be seeking a way to reward you for the good deeds you’ve performed as a relief worker. I happen to have a friend who practices immigration law. In fact, she was just at the border last week, aiding families seeking asylum.”

  He pressed a button on the desk phone and the monotone hum of the open phone line filled the air. He dialed a number and after three rings, a man picked up.

  “Serena Dayton’s office.”

  “Hi Chad, this is Jonathan Campbell. Is Serena available?”

  “Hello, Mr. Campbell. She’s finishing up a conference call. I’ll let her know you’re on hold.”

  They waited a couple of seconds before someone picked up on the other end of the line.

  “Well, hello stranger.” The sultry voice that emerged from the phone’s speaker cause uncomfortable pinpricks to dance along Ivana’s skin. “I wondered what a woman had to do to hear back from you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Or is it you who’s seeking pleasure this time?”

  Jonathan had the presence of mind to look uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

  “It’s…umm…not that kind of call,” he said. “I’m seeking your professional advice this time. I have two people in my office—who can hear this conversation since I have you on speakerphone, by the way—and one is having an issue with a visiting visa.”

  “Why didn’t you say that, Jonathan.” The woman’s tone instantly became more businesslike, but the sensual familiarity in her initial greeting would haunt Ivana for a long time to come. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he and the woman on the other end of the line were far more than just professional acquaintances.

  As Jonathan explained Angus’s situation to the other lawyer, Ivana stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. If she looked at him, he would know that she was torturing herself by imagining him with this other woman.

  Had he been with her in this office? Did Serena Dayton have memories of staring at the discolored patch on the ceiling while Jonathan sent her to heaven and back?

  Ivana pressed a hand to her stomach, which suddenly felt as if it was going to reject the grilled shrimp salad she’d eaten for lunch. She’d known coming here would be a special kind of agony, but it was so much worse than she’d first imagined.

  “We’re working within a very short timeframe,” Jonathan explained. “Angus here has less than a week. Do you think you can work your magic?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Serena said.

  “I knew I could count on you,” Jonathan said.

  “Maybe you can buy me a drink at The Hard Court next week as a thank you,” the woman replied, a tint of that earlier sultriness returning to her voice.

  Ivana glanced up to see a slight, knowing grin curl up the side of Jonathan’s mouth. “It would be my pleasure,” he answered.

  If given the chance, Ivana would levitate from this chair and fly right out the window. Having to sit here and endure his sensual banter with a woman he’d obviously been intimate with was more than her already bruised heart could withstand.<
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  As hard as it had been to ignore his relationships while she lived over a thousand miles away, it would be impossible to escape them now that she was back in this city. Her only option was to refrain from being in the same space with him. Of course, that feat would be just as impossible to accomplish, seeing as he was her brother-in-law’s best friend.

  The lump of regret and discomfort clogging her throat made it hard to swallow. But whose fault was that? It wasn’t Jonathan’s. He had every right to flirt with whomever he chose, gallivanting from one woman to another. She’d handed that right to him the moment she chose to run away.

  Ivana could laugh when she thought about the little fantasy that had been running through her head since the fall, from the moment she realized she would finally return to her hometown after three long years. She’d never been brave enough to say it out loud, but she’d indulged in it countless times in the months leading up to her flight to New Orleans.

  The fantasy that she and Jonathan would find their way back to each other. How foolish had she been to have ever considered it a possibility.

  She’d made this lonely bed for herself when she ran away from him. It was only fair that she must now lie in it. Alone.

  Chapter Three

  She should probably switch to the other side.

  The thought had occurred to her more than once. If she stayed like this much longer she’d have the throw pillow’s thick cord imprinted on her face.

  “So what,” Ivana muttered as she stared at the television. She’d been in the same position for the past hour, lounging on her mother’s “good” sofa with her cheek smushed up against the pillow’s scratchy embroidery. If Sylvia Culpepper were to walk through that door right now, she’d have the hissy fit to end all hissy fits.

  But her mother was out of town for the weekend, off to some convention with women from her college sorority. Ivana had full reign over this stuffy house without the threat of getting into an argument. Yet, she still couldn’t get comfortable. She was never comfortable in her mother’s home, even as a child.