Now and Again Page 2

Hearing her say ‘we’ still rankled Layla, and she chided herself. Despite having every intention of being half of a ‘we’ by now herself, it hadn’t worked out for Layla. She knew it was petty to resent Emma’s happiness, though.

  “I don’t know,” Layla said. “I might.”

  “I hope you can make it. Or maybe we could do something together sometime? I’d just like to see you.”

  “Me, too. I’ll call you, okay?” Layla said.

  She was disgusted with herself as she hung up. Emma didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Why did Layla resent her happiness? She was a strong, independent woman who had a full life of her own. She resolved to go to dinner at her parents’ house and catch up with her sister. So she had a boyfriend, and so it was Cole Marlowe. Layla could be mature about it.

  ***

  Ben dropped the dead lift bar and wiped beads of sweat away from his forehead. It was getting late and the gym was almost empty, but he’d just hit his stride. After a long day of dealing with paperwork and briefings, he liked checking out and doing something mindless.

  A muscular blonde woman in a halter top was watching him and he felt a flare of annoyance. He wasn’t in the mood to be polite. All he wanted was to work out late and stop by the pub for dinner and a beer.

  “Hey, man.” A fellow CPD officer nodded from the dead lift station next to Ben. “You with Investigations?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said as he bent to lift the bar again.

  “You’re a cop?” the blonde asked, turning his way and arching her eyebrows with interest.

  “Yep.” He lifted the bar, liking the familiar strain of raising it.

  “So where do you work?” she asked, leaning against a machine.

  Ben blew out a breath as he dropped the bar. Why the hell did people come to the gym to talk instead of work out?

  “I’m usually at Central,” he said. She looked at him and smiled, as though waiting for him to ask her something, but he ignored her until she walked away.

  He finished his workout, satisfied with the fatigue in his muscles as he drove to O’Malley’s. The usual crowd was at the downtown Irish pub, including several of the guys who worked under him.

  “Hey, sarge,” called Doreen, the gray-haired bartender who looked out for all the cops. She slid Ben a bottle of his favorite dark beer and he winked at her.

  “Can I get the grilled chicken and vegetables?” he asked. Doreen nodded and gave him a small smile.

  “Darlin’, you’re the only man who comes in here and orders healthy food,” she said. “You’re also the only one who never comes in with a woman.”

  “I eat hamburgers sometimes,” he said. “But you’re right about women. I don’t need the headache.”

  “It’s not all bad,” Doreen countered as she wiped the wood bar with a wet cloth.

  “It’s bad enough.”

  “Did you have a bad experience or something?”

  “Not really, I’m just sick of women who want to get married the day after we meet,” Ben said.

  “Well, I can’t blame them -- you’re a catch,” Doreen said.

  “Not really. I’m an overbearing asshole with no interest in settling down.”

  “I could get past that if I got to see you with no shirt on,” she said, cackling. Ben shook his head and smiled at her.

  “Doreen, you’re all the woman I need.”

  ***

  Her second trip to the Chicago Police Department this week was starting smoother than the first one. Layla had driven this time, and even managed to park close by. Wearing a tailored black suit over a hot pink camisole with her hair pulled into a sleek, straight ponytail, she felt ready to handle anything that came her way.

  She bypassed the front desk, keeping a purposeful expression on that said she knew where she was going. After she exited the elevator, the blonde in the basement buzzed her in again and she walked down the long hallway to B-17, rapping on the wood door.

  This time instead of being summoned in, the door opened and Ben stood on the other side. A uniformed officer got up from the chair in front of Ben’s desk and looked Layla over, his gaze starting at her feet and lingering on her chest. He smiled.

  “Miss Carson,” Ben said, grinning. “Nice to see you wore shoes this time.”

  Layla sighed with exasperation as the young officer with a shiny bald head made his way to the doorway.

  “Are you gonna introduce me, Sarge?” he asked, still smiling.

  “Nope. Get your ass back to work,” Ben said.

  Layla strode through the door after the officer walked out, settling into a black leather chair in front of the desk.

  “Did you make it to court the other day?” Ben asked.

  “I did, yes. Thanks for the ride. What do you have for me on the Larson case?”

  Ben took a seat behind his desk and Layla allowed her gaze to wander over his body. Today he wore a pale blue dress shirt that matched his eyes and fit his wide chest and shoulders perfectly. He had to get those custom made.

  “I can tell you I’ve taken care of it. You’ll get word from the DA’s office soon that the charges against Mr. Larson have been dropped,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair.

  “That’s good news. But why? What’s been done with the officer?”

  “I can’t discuss the specifics of personnel. You know that.”

  “But when you say you took care of it, what does that mean?” she pressed. “If the charges were dropped and this officer is just going to treat the next group of young men he encounters the same way, I don’t find that to be a good resolution.”

  Ben met her eyes wordlessly, and Layla crossed her legs, refusing to look away.

  “You know I can’t go into it,” he said. “But I handled it, and the charges against your client are being dropped. That’s all I can do.”

  “Just tell me--”

  “Miss Carson, I won’t be specific. Personnel matters are not public.” Ben crossed his arms across his chest.

  “Am I going to have to file Freedom of Information to find out what you did with my complaint?” Layla’s voice had risen with her frustration.

  “Good luck with that. Personnel matters are exempt from FOIA.”

  Layla shook her head.

  “Look,” Ben said, his tone softening. “He’s being disciplined, okay? I was a hard ass with him and he admitted it, and he’s being dealt with. I’m not supposed to tell you that, but I am, because I can see you care.”

  “Disciplined? What does that mean, Sergeant Montrose?”

  “I’m not telling you anything more,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

  “Fine,” she said, rising from the chair. “I really think you should consider calling yourself a Public Non-Information Officer from here on out.”

  Ben smiled, putting his hands behind his head. Layla couldn’t help noticing the way his large biceps strained against his dress shirt.

  “I’m not normally the PIO,” he said. “I’m filling in for someone on medical leave.”

  “Well, it’s been an experience,” Layla snapped, heading for the door.

  “When I meet someone as charming as you, I wonder why attorneys have such a bad reputation,” Ben said, amusement in his tone.

  Layla turned back to look at him as she opened the door. “I’m not here to charm you. I’m here to do my job. I know you must be used to women batting their eyelashes over your huge muscles, but that’s not me.”

  “Huge muscles? Were you checking me out, Miss Carson?”

  Layla rolled her eyes as she stepped out of Ben’s office. “I don’t have time for this, I have work to do.”

  “If there’s anything else I can help with…”

  “Right. If I need to find out nothing on another issue, I know who to call,” she said, waving as she closed the door.

  Men. They’re all cocky as hell or spineless.

  Layla did a mental run-through of her weekend plans on the way back to her office. Tonight she was having drink
s with her friend Lane. Tomorrow she planned to work out, clean her apartment and watch movies. And Sunday she was having dinner at her parents’ house with Emma and Cole.

  Quiet weekends had been lonely at first, but she’d grown to look forward to them. They were a break from the stressful pace of the week. It had been almost seven months since she’d abandoned her dogged effort to find a husband, and that had freed up her weekends considerably.

  After the fallout with Emma, Layla had decided to step back. It just wasn’t worth it. One disappointing date after another left her too frustrated to continue. Casual sex had lost its appeal; it just made her feel slutty. So she’d found other things to focus on.

  She usually put in at least 12 hours a day at the office, and her hard work was getting the attention of the partners at her firm. That kind of effort was worth her while – she knew it was getting her somewhere. Going on lousy dates accomplished nothing.

  Ben Montrose only reinforced her decision to take a long break from men. He was arrogant and exasperating. Just the latest in a long string of men who’d shown her she was right to abandon the list.

  Writing her goals on a sheet of pink Hello Kitty paper as she started high school had seemed like a way to get everything she wanted, back then. As long as it was on the list, she believed it would happen. So far, she’d checked off “be the valedictorian”, “become an attorney” and “visit another country”. The list was tucked into a compartment of her wallet, and she hadn’t looked at it in a while. Since she was turning 27 soon, she knew there would be no check next to “get married by age 28”. But so what? Men were overrated anyway.

  Chapter 2

  The sweet melted chocolate and savory walnuts in the homemade cookie she’d popped into her mouth made Layla moan with satisfaction. She always refused dessert in front of others, but she was alone in her parents’ kitchen now. No one had to know she actually had no self-control around chocolate.

  “What’s new at work, honey?” Eliza Carson asked as she walked in with dirty dishes from dinner.

  “Oh, not much,” Layla mumbled, chewing quickly. “Mostly boring corporate stuff. I’ve been helping with some criminal defense work, that’s been fun.”

  “Really?” Her mom smiled and raised her eyebrows. “I always pictured you on the other side, throwing the book at the criminals.”

  Layla shrugged as she scraped plates into the trash can. “Nothing offends me like inequality,” she said.

  “Hey, I’ll wash,” Emma said as she came into the kitchen. Of course, Cole was right on her heels.

  “I’ll dry,” he said. Layla couldn’t help watching them side by side in front of the sink, Emma smiling up at Cole as she ran dishwater. He leaned his forehead down to hers and murmured something meant only for her.

  Layla sighed as she turned away, stacking cookies into a container. She felt her mom’s eyes on her and willed her not to say anything.

  Don’t ask if I’ve met anyone nice or gone on any dates. Just let it pass.

  “I saw Corey Stephenson’s mother at my garden club meeting and she said he’s getting divorced,” her mom said, raising her brows expectantly at Layla.

  “That’s too bad,” Layla said. “He’s a jackass and he was lucky Holly married him.”

  “He was always a nice looking boy.”

  “Ugh.” Layla made a face. “He’s got a porn-star mustache.”

  Emma laughed from in front of the sink, but their mom rolled her eyes as she pointed a cardboard tin foil package at Layla.

  “You should give him a chance,” she said sternly. “You never go out on dates anymore. Thinking you’re too good for everyone is a good way to end up alone.”

  Annoyance flared inside Layla and she pursed her lips. It was Emma who turned around to defend her.

  “Mom, why would she go out with a guy who’s going through a divorce? That’s a really bad idea.”

  “And so what if I’m alone?” Layla said angrily. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I just want to see you happy,” her mom said, her face softening. “I thought you wanted to get married and have kids.”

  “That wasn’t a well-thought out plan,” Layla said. “I’m too selfish to have kids. I work too much. And at this stage of my life, Prince is all the companionship I need.”

  She waited, sure her mother would press the issue. Emma broke the silence when she turned around at the sink with a wide grin.

  “I wasn’t gonna say anything yet, but I can’t wait!” she said.

  She better not be engaged. Not after less than a year. There’s no way in hell I can pretend I’m happy over that. Not right after getting harassed for being alone. Don’t say it, Em.

  “I want to open a bakery!” Emma said, her eyes shining. Layla exhaled deeply, relief washing over her.

  “A bakery?” their mom asked, her voice rising with surprise.

  “Yes! I’ll make all the amazing pastries I used to eat in France. And I want to sell art there, and have live music.”

  “That’s a great idea, Em,” Layla said. “It sounds perfect for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ve got some appointments to look at buildings this week.”

  Layla was about to offer to go with her when she noticed Emma and Cole exchanging a quick smile. Of course, he’d be going with her. And three was definitely a crowd.

  “I’m going home,” Layla said, reaching toward her mom for a hug.

  “I’m glad you came, honey,” her mom said.

  “Me, too.”

  And oddly, she was. Surely spending time around the happy couple would eventually immunize her to the effects of their sweetness. Or she’d at least get better at pretending.

  ***

  Prince was panting with exertion when Layla stopped at the mailbox on the way back into the apartment from their walk. It was Saturday, and they’d just finished their second walk of the hot, sunny day.

  She filled up Prince’s water dish and he drank before flopping down on the air conditioning vent. As she thumbed through her mail, a plain white envelope that only said, ‘Layla’ in black marker caught her attention. How had it made it into her mailbox with no postage?

  She pulled the single sheet of paper from the envelope and furrowed her brows. When she unfolded it, there were only a few words, but they made her heart beat faster.

  I’m waiting you fucking whore.

  She dropped the paper on the table, backing away from it. A frantic sensation built in her chest as she scanned every corner of her apartment. Someone had left that in her mailbox, which meant they had been here. It filled her with a sense of terror that made her grab the letter, her dog and her keys and run out the door, slamming it behind her.

  She dropped Prince off with her neighbors across the hall, not telling them about the ominous note. After seeing the parade of men in and out of her apartment before she’d sworn off sex, they’d probably just nod in agreement if she showed it to them.

  It wasn’t until she was in her car, with the engine running and all the doors locked, that she exhaled deeply with relief. But now where was she going? She considered going to Lane’s apartment, or the mall, but the terrified feeling would still be waiting when she got back home.

  No, there was only one place that made sense. She sighed with resignation as she put the car in drive and headed for the police department.

  The chairs in the waiting room were half-filled with an assortment of people including a young woman clearly fighting with her husband by phone, a mother and her two young children and an older man who stared stoically at the wall. Layla had been sitting there for 45 minutes, and she groaned inwardly as a man with a powerful garbage smell sat down next to her.

  “Hi, there,” he said, grinning. He scratched his beard and Layla caught a whiff of something putrid. She smiled weakly, wondering if she was overreacting and should skip the police report.

  “What?” the woman with purple streaks in her hair demanded into her cell phone. “Yeah, should have t
hought of that before you hit me, asshole!”

  She shoved the phone back into her purse. Layla wanted to offer her some words of encouragement, and tell her to stick to her guns with filing the police report, but she knew it wasn’t her place.

  The elevator doors opened and Layla’s pulse accelerated as Ben Montrose stepped out. He was alone, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a navy tie, and she stared as he crossed the lobby. He was heading for the exit door, and he glanced at the chairs on his way out, doing a double take when he saw her.

  He strode over, and Layla grew conscious of her black yoga pants, pink tank top and neon tennis shoes. She hadn’t changed after her walk.

  “Miss Carson,” Ben said with a slight smile. “Nice to see you again.”

  She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Nice to be back.”

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m not here on business,” she said. “I guess I need to file a report.”

  “What sort?”

  “Can we maybe talk about it somewhere else?” she asked, looking up at him.

  God, he’s hot. I wish I could grab his arms and see if they’re as rock hard as they look.

  “Sure, let’s go down to my office.”

  “Are you sure? It looked like you were leaving,” she said.

  “Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the elevator. Layla was grateful to escape the smell next to her, and she hustled into the elevator behind him.

  “Do you always work Saturdays?” she asked as they stood side by side, neither one looking at the other.

  “No, we’re just really backed up right now in Investigations. People get a little wild in the summer.”

  The doors opened, and he retrieved a magnetic key card from his pocket, using it to open the door to the hallway. Layla followed him to his office, where he keyed in a code on a keypad.

  As she walked to her usual seat in front of the desk, she glanced at Ben and saw him looking her over. He sat down behind his desk, loosening his tie.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “When I checked my mail today, I found this.” She passed the envelope across the desk. Ben opened it and scanned the letter, his brows arching as he met her eyes. “I’m probably being a baby, but it scared me.” Her voice wavered and she cleared her throat.