The Child Comes First Read Free Page A

“Yeah,” he said. “Fully restored.”
    â€œI can see that,” she said as she moved to the back end to examine the taillights. “A ’67, if my guess is right.” Then she bent down to check out the exhaust system. “Original?”
    â€œI wish,” he said. “Unfortunately, it’s a replacement.” Simon had to remind himself to breathe. Not only did she recognize the car, but she’d checked out the undercarriage. And when she’d leaned forward to see beneath the car she’d unintentionally given him a great view of her shapely backside as her demure skirt tightened around her. The unexpected spark of physical interest shocked him nearly as much as her appreciation of his car.
    He had to look away before she caught him gaping. “Yup. It’s a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500,” he recited inanely. “Not many women know much about cars.”
    She straightened and nodded knowingly. He took a surreptitious half step backward at the sight of perfect white teeth and a barely noticeable dimple on one cheek. Not my type, he reminded himself firmly. No matter how much she appreciated his Mustang.
    â€œMy cousin’s husband is a big car buff. He collects model cars and he has this very vehicle in one-eighteenth scale. He’ll be thrilled when I tell him I saw a real one, up close and personal.”
    â€œYou can tell him you got to ride in one, too,” he said, returning to the passenger door and sweeping his hand toward the interior. He stood there while she got in—an interesting process to observe, given the low bucket seats and that skirt of hers. Women didn’t wear skirts much these days, he realized. Jayda did her best to keep the whole thing modest, but Simon found himself watching her do it, anyway. He closed her door, then took his time rounding the car to the driver’s side, hoping to calm his pulse. He’d known her for less than an hour, and she’d already managed to challenge his beliefs about what he wanted.

CHAPTER TWO
    T HE RIDE TO B ALTIMORE’S G AY Street—ironically enough, the road on which the juvenile detention center sat—didn’t take long. Jayda kept her mind on Tiffany’s case and on giving Simon Montgomery the girl’s history. Otherwise, she might have found herself dwelling on how close their shoulders were in the constricted interior of the restored vehicle. They weren’t touching, but only inches separated them. She could smell the faintest hint of after-shave, a pleasant-enough scent. To her satisfaction, she managed to control the urge to lean as far away from him as possible. Her therapy must be working. When the sun came through the car window, she found herself noticing his hair wasn’t quite black, after all. It was actually a deep brown, to match his eyes. A pleasant surprise, to be able to consider him as a person rather than as a threat.
    Too often in the past, she’d judged powerful professional men through the caustic memories she had of the uncle who had groped and fondled her during her teens. Her mother’s brother had been an ambitious, successful attorney, too, and as a result Jayda had always been attracted to men with the opposite characteristics—easygoing guys with little interest in dominating a relationship. The last one had been Brian—a happy-go-lucky waiter at a nice chain restaurant. He, like her other boyfriends, had worked out at first, but none of them had lasted more than a year. Either she’d become bored or they’d become insecure. Her most recent therapist told her she probably needed to find someone more her equal intellectually. But strong, smart men still overwhelmed her. She decided to take her reaction to Simon Montgomery as a good sign. Maybe she was beginning to escape the iron hold her earlier memories had over her. She could hope.
    â€œWe both know that as guardian ad litem, you need to look out for