The Way You Love Me (The Lawsons of Louisiana Book 5) Read online

  The warm brown liquid slid from the mouth of the bottle into the wide opening of the glass with a bare splash. The heady aroma aroused the senses.

  “When...”

  Bailey took her eyes away from what she was doing, and her gaze bumped right against his. She lightly ran her tongue across her bottom lip as she watched him bring the glass to his nose. Inhaled. Nodded. Took a sip. “Perfect.”

  “Let me know if you gentlemen need anything else.” She managed to tug herself away from his magnetic pull.

  “You okay?” Mellie asked as she dumped glasses in the sudsy water.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You seem distracted. Not your usual bouncy self.”

  “I’m good. A few things on my mind, that’s all.”

  Mellie studied Bailey for a moment then shrugged. “Cool. I’m going to take my break as soon as things slow down.”

  “Sure.”

  “Wow, that guy down on the end is hot,” she said under her breath.

  “Who?”

  “Your customer. The one with the open-collar white shirt, no tie. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  Bailey’s heart thumped. “I try not to.”

  “Girl, you must be angling for sainthood. Give me a minute with him.” She slid her eyes in his direction.

  Bailey sputtered a laugh. “You need to stop.”

  “And why would I do that?” she teased, emphasizing every word.

  Bailey shook her head in amusement and went back to work.

  * * *

  Justin Lawson took a sip of his drink. His gaze kept drifting back to the woman who’d served him, subtly following her every move. “How long did they say we’d have to wait for a table?”

  “At least a half hour. Didn’t think we needed a reservation.”

  Justin glanced around. The lounge was pretty full with more patrons waiting to be seated. This was the first time he’d been to the Mercury Lounge. He’d heard good things about it, but he wanted to check it out before he brought Jasmine here.

  “How is that case coming that you were working on?”

  Carl sucked up a laugh. “It’s a mess.” He tossed back the rest of his beer straight from the bottle. “The usual corporate back room dirty deals, everyone trying to outmaneuver the other.” He shook his head.

  Justin, like Carl, was an attorney. Both of them worked for one of the biggest law firms in Louisiana, and they both were working hard on the side to launch Justin’s nonprofit—The Justice Project—something that his father, Senator Branford Lawson, wasn’t pleased about.

  What is it about my sons, Branford had boomed at the last family gathering. I build a legacy for them, pave the way for them and they go off and do what the hell they want anyway. If their father had his way, both he and his older brother, Rafe, would be embroiled in the political quagmire of Washington, DC. Rafe preferred the life of a jazz musician and womanizer. Justin always believed it was just Rafe’s way to piss their father off. But at least Justin, to appease his father, had agreed to take the position at the law firm Lake, Martin and Dubois, which is where he’d met Jasmine Dubois.

  “Are you finished with the depositions?” Justin asked. He was almost done with his drink. He peered down the length of the bar to get Bailey’s attention.

  “Should be completed by the end of the next week. I tell you, man, it’s been a nightmare.”

  “Once we get The Justice Project off the ground, we can finally start doing the kind of work that we want to do—that needs to be done.”

  “Not soon enough for me,” Carl said.

  “Refills, gentlemen?” Bailey looked from one to the other, refusing to settle on Justin’s face.

  “Another Corona for me.”

  “And you?”

  Justin studied the lines of her face, the way the tips of her eyes lifted ever so slightly, the soft rise of her breasts beneath the stiff black shirt, and the warm caramel of her skin. “I’ll take another.” He lifted his glass. The path of his gaze led to hers.

  That spark popped between them again. Bailey sucked in a breath when Justin ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

  “Coming right up.” She strode down the bar to retrieve the Corona from the icebox and filled a clean glass with bourbon.

  “If you two get any hotter, you’ll set the joint on fire,” Carl teased.

  Justin rolled his head toward Carl. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You haven’t stopped checking her out since you sat down.”

  “A man can look, can’t he?” He reached for a handful of cocktail peanuts.

  “Yeah, but Jasmine’s doing her best to claim you.”

  Justin heaved a sigh. “Yeah, Jasmine,” he murmured.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Let’s just say she would like us to be in a relationship, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He slowly shook his head.

  “Hmm, makes it kind of tough with her being the boss’s daughter.”

  “Yeah...exactly.”

  “Here you go, gentlemen.” She placed the beer and glass in front of Carl and the bourbon in front of Justin. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “A table,” Carl groused.

  Bailey smiled, and Justin’s insides shifted. He lifted his glass and let his gaze drop into the depth of his drink instead of the dark pools that were her eyes.

  “We’re always busy on Friday nights. I take it this is your first time here.” She wiped down the space in front of them and refilled the snack bowl.

  “It is,” Justin said.

  “I wouldn’t want this to be your last time.” She was talking to them both, but her eyes were fixed on Justin. “Let me see what I can do about getting you a table.”

  “We’d appreciate that...” Justin waited for her to fill the blank.

  “Bailey.”

  “Justin.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Justin.”

  “Oh, and I’m Carl,” he said, feigning offense at being ignored.

  Bailey laughed lightly. “Carl.”

  Bailey and Justin shared a look of amusement before she walked off.

  Carl’s cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the face of the phone and frowned. “Matthew...” He listened, and his expression grew tighter. “Okay. Give me a half hour. Thanks.” He disconnected the call and turned to Justin.

  “What’s up?”

  “I have to go back to the office. Matthew got a call from Judge Graham’s clerk. He wants us in chambers at nine tomorrow morning. You know how anal he is. I need to pull everything we have together on the obstruction case.”

  “Need some help?”

  “Naw.” Carl stood, finished off his beer and clapped Justin on the shoulder. “You stay. That’s why we have first-year associates for times like this. I’ll supervise, and they’ll work.” He lifted his chin. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll have much more fun here than back at the office.” He set his beer bottle down. “Tab is on you. Later.”

  Justin chuckled and lifted his drink to his lips just as Bailey returned.

  “I got you a table. Where’s Carl?”

  Justin’s brow flicked. “He had to leave. Problem at the office.”

  “Oh, well, if you still want the table...”

  He halfway shrugged. “Can I uh, order some food and sit at the bar?”

  Her heart bumped in her chest. She felt slightly giddy. “Sure. I’ll get you a menu. Be right back.”

  Justin watched her walk away and was immensely grateful for the anal Judge Graham.

  Chapter 2

  Justin looked over the menu. He was pleased at the extensive selections and finally settle
d on a porterhouse steak, grilled asparagus and risotto.

  “I’ll put this in right away,” Bailey said. “It might be a while. Would you like an appetizer in the meantime?”

  “I’m a patient man.” He slowly turned his glass. “I can wait.”

  Bailey tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry that she choked.

  Justin leaned forward and reached for her. “You okay?”

  She blinked away the water that filled her eyes. Coughed. Coughed again and wished that the floor would open. She cleared her throat. Her vision cleared, and she realized that the fire on her hand was Justin’s.

  Bailey took a step back, slid her hand away. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Guess something caught in my throat.”

  Justin sat back down. “Well, I would have been happy to resuscitate you had the need arisen.”

  Bailey’s stomach danced. There was that half grin again as if he knew something that no one else did.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She walked down the aisle to the other end of the bar to check on the customers and refills and could barely concentrate. What in the world was her problem? She was all twisted over some guy who could be a gorgeous serial killer for all she knew.

  “Bailey, can you check the couple on the end while I fix these martinis?” Mellie asked.

  “Sure.” That’s what she needed to be doing—paying attention to her customers, making sure that the bar was running at optimum efficiency, not getting all hot and bothered over some guy.

  “What’s the deal with the two you were serving?”

  “Oh, one of them had to leave. Business or something,” she added noncommitally while she prepared the drinks.

  “The one who stayed is yummy. And you know he has his eye on you. You gonna talk to him or what?”

  “Mellie...I talk to all of my customers.”

  “You know what I mean. He’s hot. I know you have some ‘policy’ about interacting with the customers, but come on, girl...”

  Hot. That he was. Her hand still tingled from his touch. But she’d never taken bar talk beyond the bar. To her it was the doorway to trouble, and she didn’t intend to open it. She talked, she joked, she provided drinks and that was all.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Mellie said as if reading her mind.

  Bailey shook her head, returned the bottles to their place on the shelf and walked off to serve the customers.

  * * *

  Justin nursed his drink while keeping Bailey on his radar. Although he’d looked forward to an evening with his friend, he was actually glad that Carl got called back to work. It would give him some space to maybe get to know Bailey a little better. He sipped his drink. Jasmine.

  When they’d met more than a year ago and went out a few times, he thought that she might be the one. Both of their fathers encouraged the relationship. Their friends thought that they were the perfect couple, but his brother, Rafe, of all people, was the only one who threw shade on the relationship. Rafe told him in no uncertain terms that Jasmine was the one “for the moment,” but not forever, and that he’d know forever when it hit him. He’d laughed off his big brother’s warning. Rafe was a notorious ladies’ man, and Justin was hard-pressed to take what Rafe said seriously. But as the months progressed, and Jasmine grew more clingy, more demanding and more of what he was not looking or ready for, he was forced to tell Jasmine where they stood.

  “Dinner is served.” Bailey placed his meal in front of him.

  Justin glanced up from the warm amber liquid of his glass only to swim in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. A slow heat flowed through his limbs. “Looks good. Thank you.”

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Enjoy.” She started to walk away.

  “Hey, uh, Bailey...”

  She stopped and turned back to him. Her brows rose in question.

  “How long does this place stay open?”

  “Last call is at one. We close at two.”

  He nodded. “Is that when you get off? Two?”

  “Yes. Late shift.”

  “Then what?”

  She tilted her head. “Then what?”

  “What do you do after you get off?”

  “I’m usually too tired to do much more than go home...and go to bed.” She swallowed.

  He forked some risotto.

  The smooth crooning sound of Kem’s “A Matter of Time,” moved languidly through the sound system. “Do you get a break in between?”

  “Usually...when things slow down.”

  He nodded again without taking his eyes off her. “Stop by and check on me when you do.”

  “I can do that.”

  He lifted the fork to his mouth. “Looking forward.”

  Justin put the food in his mouth, chewed slowly, and unthinkable images of his mouth on her body ran havoc through her head.

  Bailey inhaled deeply. “Enjoy your meal.” She hurried away and told Mellie that she needed to run to the ladies’ room.

  Once in the privacy of the employee restroom, Bailey closed her eyes. She was actually shaking inside. It was obvious that Justin was making a play for her. She knew the signs and normally she was able to fend them off with a joke or another drink or deflect it with banal conversation. All of her tactics escaped her. She felt as if she’d been sucked in quicksand and couldn’t grab on to anything to pull herself free. The music floated into the restroom.

  Damn, damn, damn. She turned on the faucets and splashed cold water on her face and neck, snatched up a paper towel and dabbed the water away. She stared at her reflection. Get it together, girl. She sucked in a breath of determination and returned to her station.

  * * *

  Justin tried to concentrate on his meal, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Bailey. He could have been eating cardboard because he was only going through the motions. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that had him thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking. She was pretty. No doubt about that. But he’d seen and been with plenty of pretty women. That wasn’t it. It was something that seeped from her pores and wrapped around him like a longed-for hug. It held him, soothed him and yes, excited him. She wasn’t working him like so many of the women that he ran across. She had no idea who he was, who his family was. He wanted to keep it that way. He wanted—no needed—to find out what she was about, and maybe that discovery would answer the question that was hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Was she the one?

  * * *

  The evening moved on. The dance floor filled and emptied. The soft lighting tucked away in hidden places in the floor and pillars offered a seductive ambiance that was not lost on the patrons. Heads and bodies leaned close. Bubbles of laughter mixed with the music. Drinks flowed. Food satisfied the hungry palates. And Justin and Bailey teased and talked.

  “So how long have you been working here?”

  Bailey leaned her hip against the bar. “Going on three years.”

  “You must like it.”

  She smiled. His belly stirred.

  “I do. You meet a lot of interesting people.”

  “Rumor has it that bartenders and hairdressers are like going to a confessional.” His eyes caught the light and gleamed.

  Bailey tossed her head back and laughed. Justin memorized the long curve of her throat.

  “So I’ve heard. What about you? What do you do?”

  He gauged his answer. “Attorney.”

  Her brows rose. “Really?”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all. Actually, I’m working on getting back into law school.”

  He rested his forearms on the counter. “Getting back?”

  She lowered her gaze. “
I had to drop out for a while.”

  “Oh.” He nodded his head. “It can be hard.” He paused. “Do you know what kind of law you want to practice?”

  “I know that I don’t want to work for a big corporate firm. My passion is to work with those wrongly accused and that don’t have the means for high-priced attorneys. I’m thinking the nonprofit sector.” She watched his expression and was pleased that he didn’t seem turned off by her altruistic vision.

  “The business can certainly use more lawyers like you will be one day.” He reached for his drink.

  “I hope so. What about you? What kind of law do you practice?”

  He smiled. “The kind that you don’t want to be involved with, unfortunately.”

  “Why do you say unfortunately?”

  “I’ll put it this way. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t necessarily want to in order to get where we want to go.”

  Bailey nodded.

  “Tell me about law school Where did you go?”

  “LSU.”

  He hummed approval deep in his throat. He sipped his drink. “Good school. Is that where you’ll be in the fall?”

  Bailey averted her gaze. “That’s the plan.”

  Justin tried to reconcile her upbeat voice with her troubled expression—and couldn’t. He wanted to ask her what was really going on, but he had experience with reluctant clients. It was clear that she was hesitant and could have been for any number of reasons. What he also knew was that if asked the right questions and given enough space, a client would tell you everything you wanted to know.

  “Law school, even under the best circumstances, is rough, especially if you have to take a semester off.” He casually glanced at her.

  Bailey’s lips moved as if she would respond, but she didn’t. He tried again.

  “My second year my best friend Carl had to drop out—family issues. In solidarity I took off a semester, too. My family had a fit. But Carl and I made a pact when we started that we would enter together and leave together.”

  Her expression softened. “A man of your word.”

  “I try to be.”

  She offered a tight smile. “I better get back to work. Can I get you anything else?”