The Child Comes First by Elizabeth Ashtree Page A

asked himself. Why not just go up, get laid and leave in a few hours? But his stomach knotted and he left a disappointed Megan watching from her fashionable stoop as he slipped back into the welcoming embrace of his classic car.
    Halfway to his mother’s home, he realized he didn’t want to go there, either. They were having a girls’ night and he was too restless to join them. So he drove home instead, and once there, he roamed the rooms of his apartment. He admired the antiques and looked at the paintings his art dealer had persuaded him to buy. Despite the expensive furniture and abundant trappings of blossoming wealth, the place seemed antiseptic. Sterile.
    He missed Tiffany’s laughter and her chatter and the detritus of youth that pervaded the home in Ellicott City, where his mom and Tiffany were having their girl time.
    Worse than that, he missed Jayda’s scent, the softness of her voice, the honest sensuality of her kiss. As he thought of what he should do about his attraction to her, he went through the routine of hooking his cell phone to the power cord on the kitchen counter. Then he realized he’d had it on silent during dinner and now there was a new voice-mail message. He pressed the keys to play back the call.
    And there she was. “Hi, Simon. This is Jayda. Call me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    I T HAD TAKEN A LOT OUT of Jayda to simply pick up the phone and make the call. She’d wanted to make things right after the way they’d parted earlier that day. What a letdown when Simon hadn’t answered, especially given that he’d be gone for a few days. His secretary had reminded her he’d be flying to Boston in the morning. By the time his voice-mail message at home had run its course, she’d had only enough steam left to leave a six-word message. She’d hung up before she remembered she hadn’t given a number at which she could be reached.
    She was still at work, of course. Where else would she be? Would he know that or would he expect her to be home—or hanging out with friends or maybe on a date? She laughed ruefully at the idea of a date. That was likely where Simon was, but she was working despite the late hour.
    â€œWhy are you still here?” asked Marla. She stood framed in the doorway of Jayda’s tiny office, her purse slung over her shoulder and some files held close to her chest.
    â€œI had this kid I needed to deal with. Trouble doesn’t always wait for normal working hours. Didn’t you already go home once?”
    â€œYeah,” Marla said. “But I left some case notes behind that I need for the morning.” She indicated the folder in her arms. “I just dashed in to get them, so I wouldn’t have to rush out of the house so early tomorrow.”
    â€œWell, I’m heading out, too.” Jayda powered down her computer and picked up her purse. “I’ll walk out with you.”
    â€œWhich one of your kids has you worried now?” Marla asked.
    â€œThomas George Redman III. Funny how being named after his father and grandfather didn’t help him with self-esteem. He’s still behaving like a thug and trying to prove himself to the wrong crowd.”
    â€œThat’s what some of them do,” Marla agreed. “How’s Tiffany?”
    Jayda instantly became wary, though she tried not to show it as she locked the office door behind her. She had avoided talking about Tiffany to Marla on purpose, in the hope the woman wouldn’t realize how much time she was spending on her case. “She’s fine, I guess.”
    â€œYou got her out of the detention center. How’d you find a foster home for her?”
    â€œPerseverance,” Jayda said with a nonchalant shrug. As the two of them walked down the corridor, she heard the phone ringing on the desk she’d just abandoned and wished she could go back to find out if it was Simon returning her call.
    â€œWell, you seem to have