Unfortunately, there wasn't any way to stop it. That was the reason he'd made himself scarce since she'd returned from her honeymoon. He ran his own business and worked out of his house, so it was possible to keep a safe distance--most of the time. He only helped at The Last Stand when they needed him. He was occasionally based out of their offices, of course, especially because they had volunteers who could take care of any clerical stuff related to The Last Stand's cases. But today he'd waited until five to come in, assuming Sheridan would be gone.
"Sorry, been busy," he said.
"Not with our cases. I've hardly seen you since I got back from Hawaii."
"My real job's getting in the way." Although he didn't mind his pro bono work, he had to take enough paying clients to cover his mortgage and expenses. She knew that. Occasionally, they paid him for his work, but only if the charity could afford it and only when he was putting in as many hours as they did.
But he realized it wasn't what she'd meant.
She folded her arms. "You working on anything interesting?"
He forced his eyes down to his stack of messages so he wouldn't stare at her--or wonder about the nights she spent in her new husband's arms. "A sister searching for her little brother, who was adopted out at birth. A creditor looking to be paid by some loser who's trying to disappear. A bail bondsman who wants my help tracking someone who skipped." He shrugged. "The usual."
"Sounds like you're making the big bucks. And getting popular. Pretty soon you won't have time for us."
Part of him wished that was true. Not that he cared much about money. Beyond having a sufficient amount for his needs, he didn't see the point of chasing the almighty dollar. He'd spend any extra on his pro bono efforts, anyway. He just knew it'd be easier on him if he didn't have to confront Sheridan quite so often, or worry that Skye Willis or Ava Bixby, Sheridan's two partners at The Last Stand, would guess how he felt. They'd know already if they weren't so absorbed in their cases. He'd never met three women more driven by a cause. Of course, they had reason to be driven. But it was their passion for what they were doing that made it impossible for Jonathan to walk out on them. They were making a difference to victims of violent crime every day.
"Yeah, I'm stockpiling a ton of money right now." He eyed a note from Skye that seemed urgent. She'd left three messages on his voice mail, too, which he'd ignored. That was why he'd finally dragged his ass in, hoping to avoid Sheridan, but hoping to see her, too. "I'm not ready to buy a Ferrari just yet, though."
"You'll never buy a fancy car. Even if you had the money, you'd give every last dime to some bum on the street before you ever got to a dealership."
He thumped his forehead. "So that's why I'm always broke."
"Exactly," she said with a chuckle. "Too many bums in your life."
"I don't seek them out," he grumbled.
"No, but you see them when most people turn a blind eye."
When she said flattering stuff like that, it made him think she cared about him. But four years of working with her had taught him that the way he cared and the way she cared fell into two different categories. "You said you've been trying to reach me?"
"The number of messages I've left on your voice mail should've told you that."
What's going on? Why haven't you responded? That was what she really wanted to know, but he ignored the unspoken question, feigning preoccupation. "So...what's up?"
Her eyes widened at his lack of an apology or even an explanation.
"I've just been...missing you. It feels strange to go so long without talking to my best friend."
Friend. It'd be easier if they were enemies. At least then he wouldn't feel guilty about wanting another man's wife. "Yeah, well, you've been busy, too. Catching the man who shot you sixteen years ago. Finding the love of your life. Marrying him."
"Do I detect a bit of jealousy?" she asked.
His breath caught in his throat--until her next words revealed what she really meant.
"You'll find the love of your life someday. It always happens when you least expect it."
It had happened to her. She'd gone to Tennessee to uncover the identity of the man who'd shot her when she was in high school and come home engaged to Cain Granger, the brother of the boy who'd been killed in the same incident.
"I'm not in the market for marriage," he said.
She smiled dreamily. "You would be if you knew how great it was."
God, was he going to have to sit through a recital of what she'd found with another man?
"I'll take your word for it. Anyway, I've gotta go. Skye needs me." He crossed to Skye's office, one of four that branched off the reception area. He could hear her on the phone behind the closed door and was relieved that he'd soon have a distraction. But Sheridan spoke before he could escape.
"We've found a log cabin just outside Auburn we're thinking of buying. It'll be perfect for Cain. Plenty of room for his dogs. Lots of space.
Mountains."
"That's good." Jonathan wished she'd go back in her office and leave him alone.
"Cain and I are driving up there tonight. Would you like to come along so you can see it? We could have dinner afterward."
He almost laughed out loud. "As much as I'd love to see Cain, I'm afraid I have to pass."
Ignoring the confusion on her face, he knocked at Skye's door. She called for him to come in, but he didn't budge when Sheridan said, "You don't like him, do you? That's why you haven't been returning my calls. Cain and I are a package now, but you won't accept him."
Jonathan grimaced. "You don't need me to accept him, Sher. You don't need me at all anymore." Stepping into Skye's office, he shut the door behind him. "What's with the cryptic messages?" he demanded as soon as she looked up.
She cocked an eyebrow. "Hello to you, too."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm in a rush."
"Is it something you can cancel?"
"Cancel?" he repeated in surprise. Skye was usually more respectful of his time, especially since he donated so many pro bono hours.
"I need the best. It has to be you," she explained, and he realized that what he'd interpreted as being highhanded actually stemmed from panic.
He held out her message and read it again: Something's come up.
Please, please get in touch with me today--Skye. "I guess my other commitments aren't so pressing that I have to leave right this minute," he conceded and dropped into one of two bright pink, yellow and orange chairs across from her desk. "What's wrong?"