Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(23)

Roy wrapped his hand around the stem of the wineglass. Robin stared at his hands. They were good hands, she thought. Not large or thick. Just average, nice hands. He’d never touched her and she wondered what it would feel like to have his fingers slide across her bare skin. Oh, what a fanciful imagination she had. Still, the thought intrigued her and she couldn’t banish the image from her mind.

He started to move away and Robin went on a desperate search for a reason to detain him. Then it came to her.

“Judge Bollinger?”

“Roy.”

“Roy,” she amended. That was how she thought of him, but it would have been presumptuous of her to address him by something other than his title. “I have a friend, a very good friend, who’s seeking a position in trusts and estates. I was wondering if you know of any firm with an opening?”

“Where did your friend work before?”

“Burkhart, Smith & Crandall.”

“Ah yes, I heard they had to let go some excellent attorneys. Unfortunate.”

“Very,” Robin agreed. “My friend is Libby Morgan.”

His brow creased as if he was trying to place the name.

“Elizabeth Morgan,” she corrected, although most everyone called her Libby.

“I’ve heard of her. She has a good reputation. A hard worker.”

“She’s the best.”

He nodded and raised his hand to his face, a habit she’d noticed about him. He did that when he was thinking, mulling over facts in his head. “Let me check around and I’ll get back to you.”

“I can’t tell you how much she’d appreciate that … and I would, too, of course.”

“It’s good of you to look out for your friend.”

“Thank you.” Robin felt more than a little guilty. The sole reason she’d asked was to delay him.

Her turn had come and she ordered a glass of pinot noir.

Roy had been about to leave, but he hesitated. “You enjoy wine?”

“Very much, especially from the Willamette Valley.”

He cocked his head to one side. “So do I.” He looked like he was about to ask if she’d tried a certain winery when she heard someone say his name.

Roy excused himself. She paid for her drink and drifted away, although it felt as though she was walking on air.

The dinner seemed to take hours. The speeches droned on forever. Robin knew she wouldn’t be able to recount a single word. Roy liked wine; she liked wine. She wondered if he worked Sudoku puzzles or was interested in chess. Keyed up from their short exchange, she found it impossible to eat. The woman next to her, the wife of an attorney she knew only fleetingly, attempted to make conversation but soon gave up. Robin’s mind was preoccupied with her brief conversation with Roy. She kept thinking about all the things she could have said …

Robin left the dinner as soon as she could, and hurriedly made her way outside. It was still light out, and as she walked toward the parking garage, she reached for her cell, and scrolled down until she found Libby’s number.

“Hi, what’s up?” Libby wasn’t one who enjoyed talking on the phone. For that matter Robin wasn’t, either, but they’d been chatting more often since she’d joined the gym.

“I’ve been putting the word out for you,” Robin said.

“You have?” Her friend sounded hopeful.

Robin didn’t have an inkling if this would amount to anything. “I talked to Judge Bollinger.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Libby said.

Her friend’s excitement made Robin feel more than a little guilty. “You know Judge Bollinger?”

“Yes … I think so.” Libby hesitated and seemed to put two and two together. “How do you know him?”

“From court … his courtroom is just down the hall.”

“You’re in criminal law.”

This was a statement of fact and not a question.

“Do you want me to tell him to forget about it?” Robin snapped. She regretted saying anything to Libby now. It had been a mistake, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. What she really wanted, Robin realized, was to tell Libby that she’d finally talked to the man she’d been secretly longing for all these months.

“You went to the fund-raiser?”

Robin had mentioned it that morning at the gym. Libby had seemed surprised that she’d opted to attend. Like Robin, Libby usually mailed in a donation and left it at that.

“I was there,” Robin murmured, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“How was it?”

“Like I expected. Chicken and frozen peas for dinner, long speeches, major push for donations.”

“I’m surprised you went.”

Robin let the comment hang, unwilling to admit her real reason for attending.

An uncomfortable silence followed and Robin was about to end the conversation when Libby spoke.

“Can I ask you something?” Her friend’s voice dropped several decibels as though she was troubled.

“Depends on what it is.” If Libby intended to drill her about Roy, then the subject was off-limits. No one knew how strongly attracted Robin was to the judge. No one needed to know. It was her business and no one else’s.

“Remember I texted you about Phillip … Dr. Stone … asking me to coffee?”