The idea of dating a single father hit her. There would be a whole world of responsibilities and complications that her previous relationships had never included. Thinking again of the men she'd dated before brought up images of career focus, how contacts would enhance their social lives, and how to climb to the top, often on the backs of whoever happened to be on the rung just above them. The idea of someone whose priority wasalways his children was both appealing and terrifying. She shook her head. It was ridiculous to think like a teenager with a crush.
But as she watched Terry drive away with the bakery box settled on the passenger seat next to him, Sandra couldn't deny the pull of attraction that hit her the moment he'd walked into their reception area. His presence was protective, competent, and utterly masculine. That combination made her feel both safe and excited in a way she'd never experienced before.
Three days later, Terry called about additional documentation for the Johnson case, and somehow their five-minute conversation stretched to thirty minutes of easy dialogue that had nothing to do with legal strategy.
"You know what's funny?" Terry said, his voice more relaxed than during their office meeting. "I keep finding reasons to review this case file. Starting to think the Johnsons' paperwork is just an excuse."
Sandra felt her cheeks warm. "An excuse for what?"
"To hear your voice again." The admission was delivered with just enough humor to give him an out if she wasn't interested, but Sandra could hear the sincerity underneath.
"Well," she said, surprised by her own boldness, "maybe we should find a better excuse than case files."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Bess’s not only has pastries, but their sandwiches are amazing, and I usually grab lunch there on Fridays."
"Is that an invitation?"
Sandra's pulse quickened. "It's whatever you want it to be, Captain."
"Terry," he corrected, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "And I'll take it as an invitation. Tomorrow at noon?"
The next day, the coffee shop was cramped and noisy, filled with patrons grabbing quick lunches, but somehow, their corner table felt private. Terry had shed his official demeanoralong with his badge, and Sandra discovered he was even more appealing in casual conversation than he'd been in professional mode.
"So what made you choose Legal Aid over some big firm making the big bucks?" Terry asked, leaning back in his chair with a casualness that made her hyperaware of how his shirt stretched across his chest.
"Guilt, mostly." Sandra stabbed the chicken salad that had oozed out of her croissant sandwich with more force than necessary to distract herself from admiring the way afternoon light caught the silver in Terry's earring. "Spent my first year out of law school making rich people richer and realized I was slowly dying inside."
"Dramatic much?" Terry's grin took any sting out of the teasing.
"Says the man who probably joined law enforcement to serve and protect." Sandra raised an eyebrow. "We all have our savior complexes."
"Touché." Terry's rich laughter was genuine. "Though mine came with better benefits and a pension plan."
"And the occasional bullet aimed in your direction."
"There is that." Terry's expression grew serious. "My kids worry about that sometimes. Emma especially. She's got this protective streak that makes me feel guilty."
Again, there was pride in his voice when he talked about his children. Sandra found herself leaning forward, curious despite herself. "What are they like?"
Terry's entire demeanor softened. "Emma's twelve, thinks she's twenty-five, reads everything she can get her hands on. Toby's eleven, pure energy, never met a sport he didn't want to try." He paused, studying Sandra's face. "Most women run when they hear about the kids."
"Maybe you've been dating the wrong women."
Something shifted in Terry's expression, heat flaring in his eyes. "Maybe I have."
Their conversation flowed easily from there. They covered work to family to books to travel, and Sandra found herself laughing more than she had in months. Terry was funny in an understated manner, smart without being condescending, and had a way of asking questions that made her feel he was genuinely interested in her answers.
"I should probably leave," Terry said finally, glancing at his watch. "I have to get back to the station. I don’t want to be late since Toby has a soccer game tonight."
Sandra was hit with another flutter of attraction. "Dedicated dad."
"Only kind worth being." Terry stood, then hesitated. "Sandra, I enjoyed this. A lot. Would you maybe want to do it again sometime? When we don't have case files as an excuse."
Sandra felt her heart rate spike. "I'd like that very much."
A week later, they met again, this time at Jillian’s Coffee Shop in Baytown, which Terry recommended. The conversation was even easier the second time—the flirtation more obvious and the attraction impossible to ignore.
