Needing Nicole (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

“You think I should go for it.”

“I don’t know. That’s your decision to make. But if you don’t, you’ll always wonder
what if.
I mean, there’s no reason to anticipate the worst. Who knows?
You
might get tired of
him.
Or the two of you might fall in love. But at least you’d be doing something instead of waiting for something to happen.” Julianne frowned. “Darn! That’s it! That’s my problem. I keep waiting for something to happen to me instead of going out and making it happen. Waiting is negative. Doing something is positive.” She popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth, shooing away the pigeons in the process. She stood and brushed the crumbs off her black skirt, then tugged down her black-and-white-checked jacket.

Nicole, who still wasn’t convinced she shouldn’t just put Jack Forrester out of her mind forever, stood, too. She drained the last of her diet soda, then threw her trash into the nearest container. She and Julianne walked down to Jackson Square, threading their way through a tour group. The pure, sweet sound of a saxophone floated through the air.

As they walked back to the office through Pirates’ Alley, Julianne said, “I don’t know what you’ve decided to do about Jack Forrester, but our talk today has made me make a decision about
my
life.”

“Oh?”

“I’m tired of the same old things. I’m tired of dull, predictable dates with dull, predictable lawyers. I’m sick of playing it safe. So I’m going to finally do something I’ve always wanted to do.” Her eyes gleamed.

“Which is?”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

Nicole smiled. “I won’t laugh.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an actress.”

“Really?” Nicole said, delighted. Now that she thought about it, she realized one of the reasons Julianne was such a successful courtroom lawyer was because of her flair for the dramatic. “How’re you going to go about it?”

“I don’t know. Call around. Sign up for lessons or something.” Julianne grinned. “I’ll find a way.”

“Julianne, I don’t understand why you haven’t done this before if you’ve always wanted to.”

Julianne moved over to make room for a group of tourists who were hogging the sidewalk. “I’m not sure, either. I think I’ve just been scared to do it. Scared I wouldn’t be any good. Scared people would make fun of me. Or think I was stupid.”

Nicole constantly marveled at how low Julianne’s self-esteem could be. If either of them should have low self-esteem, it should be Nicole. Julianne was educated. She’d graduated from Louisiana State University with honors, and she’d been third in her class at Tulane Law School. Nicole, in contrast, had only a high school education. Julianne came from a well-to-do family who patronized the arts, who read extensively, who were sophisticated and well traveled. Nicole’s family, although she loved them and wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, were basically very ordinary people. Her oldest brother Neil, had been the only one of them to go to college, and he’d only gone for two years. And again, except for Neil, none of them were readers or travelers or interested in any kind of highbrow pursuits.

The Cantrelles were physical people. They liked to eat, to make love, to dance the spirited dances of their Acadian forefathers at the
fais-dodos.
They liked lots of children and noise and big family gatherings. The women liked to cook and gossip and take care of their men. The men liked to hunt and fish and take care of their women.

Julianne had never done anything to embarrass her family. Nicole had.

Yet, for all this, Julianne seemed to envy Nicole.

Nicole couldn’t figure it out.

* * *

Nicole didn’t find the time to check the Louisiana Bar Association roster until late in the afternoon. Seventeen Cantrelles were listed throughout the state, but three of them were her relatives, so she only typed fourteen names on Jack’s list. She smiled when she saw her Uncle Justin’s name. Outside of the members of her immediate family, her Uncle Justin was her favorite.

Of course, the fact that he and her Aunt Lisette had gladly welcomed her when she was pregnant with Aimee had something to do with her feelings. But she had always felt especially close to them. They were both warm, giving people, and she enjoyed being around them.

Nicole thought it was a darned shame they’d never had any children of their own. The two of them were meant to be parents. Instead, they’d lavished their generosity on Nicole and her sister and brothers as well as on the dozens of other Cantrelle cousins.

It was also because of her uncle that she had gotten the training to land a good-paying legal secretary’s position in New Orleans. Although Justin, at sixty-nine, was now retired from the practice of law, he had still been working four years ago when she had come to stay with him and her aunt, and he had put Nicole to work. She had learned so much in the year she spent with them—for they’d insisted she stay on until Aimee was six months old—that she’d had no trouble at all finding a job in New Orleans.

Remembering that peaceful hiatus and her uncle and aunt’s thoughtfulness made Nicole resolve to call them over the weekend. It had been awhile since she’d driven up to Lafayette to see them. Maybe she and Aimee could go soon.

Finally the day was over. Making sure she had the list of Cantrelle attorneys to give Jack, Nicole cleared off her desk. She dawdled as she gathered her things. Butterflies had taken over her stomach as she thought about seeing Jack in just a few minutes.

When she could stall no longer, she waved goodbye to her co-workers. Three minutes later she opened the front gate, half hoping Jack wouldn’t be there.

He was there.

Just like the day before, he leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest, his right ankle crossed over his left. He wore boots, jeans and a light blue sweater. He had the rugged, outdoors look she’d always associated with Texans. The late-afternoon sun fired his hair with scarlet, and his eyes glinted ocean-blue, deep and mysterious.

Nicole felt as if someone had squeezed all the breath out of her. She hoped he wouldn’t see how nervous she was.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a half smile.

“Hi.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. She walked closer.

He straightened, reached for the door handle, but avoided her eyes.

He’s as nervous as I am!
This knowledge helped to calm her. If Jack was nervous, that meant he at least cared how she felt. Now she could admit what had
really
been bothering her: that he, like Mark, did not respect her, that what had happened between her and Jack the night before would have been of so little importance to him that he wouldn’t care how she felt.

She lowered herself into the passenger seat of the car.

When he was seated beside her, he inserted the key in the ignition, then hesitated. Hand still on the key, he turned to look at her. “Are you angry with me?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Are you sure?” His eyes shone with concern.

“I’m sure.” The last of her embarrassment melted away. Knowing that he didn’t think less of her, knowing that what she thought and felt was important to him—made all the difference. She smiled. “I’m very sure.”

His answering smile warmed her heart. He reached over and squeezed her hand, then started the car and they were on their way.

* * *

Everything was going to be all right, Jack thought. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t going to tell him to get lost. He could feel the relief sliding through him. “Did you have a chance to check the bar association roster for me?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ve got the list in my purse.” She patted the enormous tote bag she never seemed to be without.

“Along with about a hundred other things, I’d guess,” he teased. “I’ve never understood why women need so many things. All I carry is I.D., money, a comb, a handkerchief and my keys.”

She grinned. “We women need slightly more than that.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, let’s see.” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “Wallet, coin purse, checkbook, tissues, unmentionables, makeup, comb, brush, hair lifter, hair spray, perfume, a notebook, a pen, a flashlight, keys, I.D., breath spray...” She opened the bag and looked inside. “My can of Mace, nail clippers, nail file, nail polish, an extra pair of panty hose in case I get a run, my lunch, a bottle of aspirin, my collapsible toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss...” She chuckled, pulling out a bottle. “Mineral water.”

“Mineral water!”

“I believe in being prepared.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Is that it?”

She was struggling to keep a straight face. “Nope. I also have a book in here.” She lifted it out—a paperback novel with a shiny cover. “And a cup, my coupon container, my address book, a sewing kit...” As she talked she took these items out of her bag. “I’ve also got a screwdriver, a bottle opener, a pair of scissors, safety pins...what else? A bag of pretzels for Aimee... a half-eaten box of raisins... Aimee likes raisins... gum, one of Aimee’s hair barrettes...” She frowned. “Now what’s this? Oh, I know! It’s part of a toy.”

“Nicole, this is ridiculous! How do you ever carry all that junk?”

She gave him an indignant look. “Junk? This isn’t junk. These are the necessities of life!”

They both laughed as she refilled the voluminous tote bag, and Jack fully relaxed for the first time that day. He was grateful to her for making it so easy on them both.

His relaxed state lasted until he reached Nicole’s street. Then she said softly, “Jack, pull over for a minute, will you?”

He gave her a quizzical look, tried to quell his sudden uneasiness.

“I want to talk to you, and I don’t want to be sitting in the driveway where Margaret and Caldwell can see us and wonder what we’re doing,” she said.

He pulled over to the curb and cut the engine. The early-evening stillness settled around them. He turned toward Nicole.

She ducked her head for a moment, then raised her chin and looked at him. Her dark eyes gleamed in the shadowy light of a street lamp a few feet away. “When you asked me if I was angry, and I said I wasn’t, I meant it, but...”

He ignored the sudden tightness in his chest and kept his voice light. “I had a feeling there was going to be a
but.
”

She sighed. “This is hard to say, because maybe I’m making an assumption that isn’t true, but... well, the only way I can continue to help you is if we keep our relationship strictly business.”

“Are
you going to keep helping me?”

“I want to, but I won’t be able to if.. .if anything like last night happens again.”

Jack sighed. He knew what she was saying made sense. Hadn’t he been saying the same thing to himself all day long? Why was it, then, that he didn’t feel relieved that she had reached the same conclusion? Why this curious, hollow, let-down feeling? “Am I allowed to ask why you feel this way?” he said stiffly, knowing he was being unfair, knowing she was right, yet unable to help himself.

Now it was her turn to sigh. When she answered, there was only the barest trace of a tremor in her voice—the only giveaway that she was the least bit agitated. “Before I answer that question, will you answer one of mine?”

“All right.”

“Do you like your job?”

“I love my job.”

“What do you like best about it?”

Jack hesitated, but her honesty with him compelled him to be honest with her. “The stimulation, the challenge, the travel, the excitement and adventure.”

“Jack,” she said softly. “You and I are poles apart in what we want out of life, and I think you know that. There’s no room in my life for a casual love affair. I don’t want to get too deeply involved with someone who’s going to move on to the next adventure as soon as he finishes his business in New Orleans. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Jack was ashamed of himself. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”

She immediately turned toward him, touched his forearm. “No, don’t blame yourself. What happened just... well, it just happened.”

Jack yielded to the impulse to cover her fingers with his own. A sharp sense of loss stabbed him. “I hope we can still be friends,” he said, his voice husky with regret.

“I want that, too. More than anything.” She gently pulled her hand away.

His skin still tingled from her touch. He wished... he wasn’t sure what he wished. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her, how much he wished things
could
be different between them, but he didn’t say anything.

Because Nicole was right.

They
were
poles apart.

Anything other than friendship between them would just be asking for trouble.

The weather turned cool again, and some of the leaves began to change color. But Nicole didn’t have much time to enjoy the nice weather because for the rest of that week and into the following week she had to work overtime every night. Julianne had a full caseload, and in addition to doing Julianne’s work, Nicole had been assigned a new associate attorney—Barry Sylvester. She complained to Julianne, who, in turn, complained to Claude Villac, the office administrator, but he was adamant.

“We’ve got a hiring freeze on now, and Nicole is the only secretary, besides mine, of course, who isn’t already handling more than one attorney’s work. Use your paralegal more.”

“I felt like telling the old geezer that there was a darned good reason why I’ve had you exclusively, and that’s because I’ve got the heaviest caseload!” Julianne said, voice spewing disgust, as she repeated the conversation to Nicole. “I’ll make it up to you,
chere,
” Julianne mimicked, in a perfect imitation of Mr. Villac’s French accent—an accent he cultivated to remind everyone of his roots as a descendant of an aristocratic and influential Creole family who had helped shape New Orlean’s destiny. “And they’d darned well better! When my name comes up for senior partner, they’d better remember who’s bringing in the most money around here!”

Julianne was the best trial lawyer in the firm. Before hiring her, Fortier, Montegut, and Villac had rarely handled any criminal cases. Now, although the old guard decried the notoriety some of Julianne’s cases had brought to them, all had to privately admit that the income and referrals that came as a result of her skill and hard work were welcome.