“I looked into the percentage of USAA adoptees who’ve been reported as neglected or abused, and I’m relieved those numbers don’t seem extreme. But I’m afraid the operational stats are too high. I was wondering—”

  “You were wondering if I’d utilize my vast accounting skills to check into the matter.”

  Emory nodded.

  “Because you do in fact suspect something illegal but don’t want to say so because I’m on the board and because we’re friends.”

  “In a nutshell, yes.”

  “I not only will, but I must,” Henrietta said. “I’m not sure if you know this, but my father was on the founding board of USAA. While I was working with CPS, he and I talked often about the system and how some clients received better service than others. He predicted privatization would be an issue in the future and wanted to assure it was handled properly by the company. Doesn’t sound like that’s happening. I assume you brought information for me?”

  Emory pulled the flash drive from the side of her purse and handed it to Henrietta. “And before you ask, I received these documents legally.”

  “Good to know.” She tucked the drive into the pocket of her suit jacket, picked up her martini, and asked, “So, who is she?”

  The sip Emory had just taken of her drink almost spewed out her nose. “What?”

  “The new woman in your life. The joyful comment from earlier. Do keep up, dear.”

  Emory wiped her mouth and eyes, stalling for words that described Jazz and their relationship adequately, but failed. “It’s very new, so I’m not sure where it’s going.”

  “But you’re already in love with her,” Henrietta said.

  “I…yes, I am. I think I’ve been waiting for her a very long time without realizing it.”

  “Does she feel the same?”

  “She told me she loves me for the first time today. Our lives are a little complicated, Henri, so I worry. She’s a cop who was adopted very young, and I’m a social worker with a steady diet of abuse, neglect, and adoption. We have conflicting views on the privatization issue, and it’s caused problems.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Jasmine Perry.” Emory couldn’t suppress a smile as she said her name and remembered their romp in her office earlier and the words Jazz had spoken so convincingly. “Jazz.”

  Henrietta propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and stroked her chin. “Perry. Jasmine Perry.” She snapped her fingers. “I was her caseworker.”

  “You’re kidding. Do you remember anything about her?”

  Henrietta chuckled. “It was a long time ago, and I was much younger.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “You haven’t read her file?”

  “No!”

  Henrietta patted her arm. “I’m very proud of you. I obviously taught you well. Have you been tempted?”

  Emory considered her answer, wondering if Henrietta was still teaching or simply testing. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about looking at her file, but it would feel like an invasion of privacy, and I can’t do that to her. I want to know everything about her because she chooses to tell me. I want us to be honest with each other.”

  Henrietta studied her for several long seconds, and Emory swore she could almost see her next question forming. “So, you’ve been totally honest with her?”

  “Yes. We talked about my surgery and what that means for our future if we decide to have a family. And she was wonderful. She is wonderful. I’m so happy, Henri.”

  “I like this woman already. She has my stamp of approval,” Henrietta said. “I expect an invitation to become reacquainted with her sooner rather than later.”

  * * *

  Jazz stood outside Karen’s condo door reliving her weekend in bed with Emory and the afternoon on her desk until the tender and passionate images filled her head and heart and there was no room for Karen to tempt or intrude. She and Emory were in love and wanted to spend their lives together. She’d never been happier. Her strategy backfired. The memories of Emory’s insatiable need, her gentle touch, and the possibilities of a lifetime made her burn and ache all over again—not a good state to be in around Karen. The woman homed in on sexual arousal and frustration like a tracer round marked a target. She paced the hallway to calm down before finally knocking on the door.

  Karen opened almost immediately and propped against the doorframe wearing a V-neck T-shirt that stopped mid-thigh. Does she own anything that isn’t revealing and sexy as fuck? Jazz quickly glanced away from Karen’s exposed cleavage and stepped into the room. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. I’m so glad you could stop by.” She kissed Jazz’s cheek, closed the door behind them, and led her to the sofa. “Beer?”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” She wiped her sweaty hands down the legs of her jeans and focused on an upcoming community meeting Bennett had tasked her with organizing. They’d discussed a child-friendly event to include games, face painting, and music on the lawn behind Fairview Station. Jazz loved the idea and hoped Shea would be there with the Robinsons.

  “A penny.”

  “Huh?” Jazz looked up, and Karen stood beside the sofa with a beer in one hand and a rocks glass in the other. “Guess I spaced out.”

  “Why the serious expression?” She clinked the glass against Jazz’s bottle.

  “Sorry. Shea is still missing. I got an update on our search on the way over. We’ve checked and double-checked all her father’s contacts in the city with no luck. We found the van he drove from Atlanta abandoned, so he’s probably got another vehicle. Who knows what this guy is into or how much danger Shea is in? You haven’t heard from her, have you?” Jazz downed several gulps of beer.

  “Why would you ask that?” Karen rolled her glass between her palms.

  “I just thought maybe, since you’ve been dealing with her for so long, she might’ve reached out if she had a chance. She’d probably remember your number easier than mine.”

  “You’ll find her. Don’t give up.” Karen joined her on the sofa, so close that Jazz slid toward the edge.

  Had Karen always made her this uncomfortable or had being intimate with Emory and realizing she loved her made her more aware of other feelings as well?

  “Okay, work it is,” Karen said. “As I mentioned on the phone, I spent all day Friday and today pitching my proposal to the state board and various stakeholders who work with CPS and USAA. I think it went well. Of course, there were some dissenters…” Karen’s voice trailed off as if she expected Jazz to fill in a missing piece, but she didn’t take the bait. “Emory was the most vocal. She had quite a lot to say at the hospital meeting. Any idea why she’s so opposed to my proposition?”

  Jazz took another sip of beer and chose her words carefully before answering. “Nothing I haven’t already told you. She’s a career CPS employee, knows the system inside and out, and is convinced they are the best option for helping children in all areas, not just adoption.”

  “And she doesn’t like me.”

  What was the point of denying the obvious? “That’s not really a secret.” She tipped her bottle toward Karen. “And the feeling is mutual.”

  “Mine is purely a professional distinction, but I think Emory feels personally threatened by me. Doesn’t she?”

  Jazz wasn’t about to discuss Emory’s insecurities with anyone, especially not Karen. “You’d have to ask Emory about that.”

  Karen took a delicate sip of her drink and placed the glass on the coffee table. “I admire your loyalty, Jazz, but let’s consider the facts.” She waved her hand down her body. “I’d put this package against Emory any day, but looks aren’t everything. I’m a successful business manager who commands an impressive six-figure salary plus bonuses. I have contacts all over the world who make their vacation homes available whenever I ask. My appetites range from the traditional to the exotic in food, travel, wardrobe, and pleasure.”

  Jazz reached for the coarse hair at her ear but stopped, unwilling to let Karen see her discomfort. Emory’s words rang in her head, “Karen Patrick is dangerous.” Unlike her previous encounters with Karen, Jazz now sensed that danger more acutely and not as simple flirting.

  “I love competition and challenges, physically, emotionally, and sexually. And let’s not forget, I’m a whole woman.”

  Jazz choked on a swallow of beer that went down the wrong way. “A what?”

  Karen tried to look shocked, but her expression came off as predatory. “Oh, she hasn’t told you, has she?”

  A sick feeling settled in Jazz’s stomach as she rose from the sofa. “Who hasn’t told me what? If this is a trick to get my help with your proposal, you should stop. I won’t hear anything derogatory about Emory.”

  “You’ve grown fond of her. Possibly more than fond. I see it in your eyes, and the way you shy away from me now. I promise you, Jazz, this is no trick. Please listen. There are things you need to know.”

  Jazz crossed her arms over her chest. “Then tell me.” Karen paused as if she were struggling with what she wanted to say, but Jazz suspected the tactic was for dramatic effect.

  “Emory can’t have children.”

  How dare Karen invade Emory’s privacy in such an egregious manner and then try to use something so personal to her own advantage. Jazz fought her anger, forced herself to remain calm and figure out Karen’s game. “How do you know that?”

  “Part of my job is finding out personal information.”

  “For what purpose?” Jazz returned to her original thought. This was a ploy, Karen’s way of manipulating her and turning her against Emory and CPS. Everything about Karen was flashy, extravagant, and available for the right amount of money. She’d made the right decision not to get personally involved with her.

  Karen rose and clasped Jazz’s hands. “Jazz, look at me. Look at me.” When Jazz made eye contact, Karen continued. “I’m sorry, but if you have any interest in having a family of your own, you deserve to know.”

  Jazz wanted to gloat and tell Karen the truth—that Emory had already told her she couldn’t have children and it hadn’t changed anything between them—but decided to play along and see just how far Karen would go. “Why are you telling me this?” For a moment, Jazz thought Karen wasn’t going to answer, but when she lifted her head again, her eyes had a triumphant twinkle.

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Karen attempted to move closer, but Jazz shook her head. “Don’t.” The declaration of love sounded hollow and false and left Jazz feeling the same.

  Karen took another step.

  “I said don’t.” Another wildfire of disbelief coursed through Jazz, and she clenched her fists and focused the pain into her hands. First Karen tried to manipulate her by invading Emory’s privacy and now this. Jazz slowed her breathing, and as the anger leeched from her, she yielded to curiosity. “Do you really think I can’t see through you, that I don’t know what you’re trying to do with this sudden love proposal?”

  “I know it sounds sudden, but life got complicated…something I usually try to avoid. Will you stay with me, let me explain?”

  “I’ve heard all I need to from you, Karen. And if you spread Emory’s business to another person, you’ll answer to me.” Jazz finished her beer and dropped the bottle in the trash on her way out. When the door closed behind her, Jazz heard something crash against the wall. More of Karen’s true colors coming through.

  She left her car in the parking lot and walked. Misty rain clung to her face and brought everything into sharper focus. Karen would use anything to get her way. Jazz wasn’t sure what she expected to find out tonight, but this certainly wasn’t it. Now that Karen’s agenda and her tricks were exposed, Jazz felt relieved. She could deal with any problem if she knew what it was.

  The next time she looked up, she was staring at Emory’s condo door. She should go home because it was late, but Emory would be worried about her seeing Karen. She’d just reassure her and be on her way. She’d told Emory she loved her, and she deserved to know everything. She knocked, got no answer, and knocked harder.

  Emory opened the door in pajamas, her hair an auburn tangle, and her eyes heavy with sleep. “Jazz? What’re you doing here…at this hour?”

  She looked so gorgeously tousled and innocent that Jazz couldn’t stop staring. Of course, she’d come to Emory. She loved her and wanted to share her life with her. Where else would she go? “Can I come in? There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Of course, darling. Are you okay?”

  Jazz nodded.

  “Is it Shea?”

  “Nothing new. She’s still out there.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve been spending every spare minute looking for her.” Emory guided Jazz inside. “You’re soaking wet and shivering. Have a seat while I get a towel.” Without waiting for a response, Emory hurried to the bathroom. Damn you, Karen Patrick. If she’d hurt Jazz in any way, Emory would make her life’s mission to repay the debt. She grabbed a towel and returned to the kitchen where Jazz sat at the small table. “Are you cold?”

  Jazz shook her head but didn’t look up. “Sorry I woke you.”

  Emory dried some of the moisture from Jazz’s hair and then draped the towel around her shoulders. “You’re upset, so I’m glad you came to me.” She pulled a chair closer and rested her hands on Jazz’s knees. “What happened, darling? Talk to me.”

  “Karen tried to use your hysterectomy to get me on her side.” She clenched and unclenched her fists as she spoke.

  Emory took a deep breath, struggling to contain her anger. “How could she possibly know about that? I’ve told only three people, Diane, Henrietta, and you. Definitely not Karen.”

  “She has ways of finding out what she wants to know. I thought you needed to be prepared. If she’ll use something that personal, you’re probably in for an ugly fight on the privatization contract.”

  “I don’t care about that right now. We should probably tell the rest of your family about my surgery. It won’t matter to them any more than it did to you, but who knows what Karen will try to do with the information if we treat it like some big scary secret that we’re ashamed of.” She rubbed her hands up and down Jazz’s legs and felt her muscles relax. “What else? You’re upset about something else. What other weapons did she trot out of her arsenal?”

  “Just one.”

  Jazz’s voice was so low that Emory leaned closer to hear. “Which one, darling? About you? Me? Us? Please tell me so I can help.”

  “Crap really.” Jazz shook her head, and Emory thought she wasn’t going to explain. When she finally did, her words were cold and harsh. “She said she loves me.”

  “What?” Was there no end to Karen’s manipulation? Emory felt a momentary flash of full-blown insecurity and panic. This was her worst nightmare. She slowed her breath and remembered what she and Jazz had shared and the words they’d spoken to each other. No need for panic. She and Jazz were in love.

  “Yeah, can you believe that?”

  “Of course, I can. She’d say anything to get what she wants.” Emory cupped Jazz’s hands and forced the next question out. “And how did you feel when Karen said she loves you?”

  “Angry. Sick. Because I finally see her the way you do, as a manipulating liar with no moral compass. I’m even more worried about the children she’s supposed to help.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Wait for her to make her next move, I guess. She was pretty pissed off when I turned her down. In the meantime, we live our lives,” Jazz said.

  Emory hugged Jazz and kissed her lightly. “Do you want to spend the night…I mean since you’re already here?”

  “I should go, but I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She stood and pulled Emory with her to the door. “I’m glad I stopped by. I needed to tell you what happened, and to say again that I love you, Emory Blake.”

  “That’s very good news indeed, Lieutenant. Remember, be careful out there.” Emory kissed her and nudged her toward the door before the urge to drag her upstairs won out.

  “Trust me, Em.”

  * * *

  Jazz ran, barely registering the rain that pelted her face like tiny needles. She retrieved her car from Karen’s, drove home, and ran next door. She texted Bennett from outside, hoping not to wake Kerstin. Jazz wanted to tell Bennett the good news and couldn’t wait a second longer. How would her family handle the news about Emory, declaring their love so soon, and about her inability to have children?

  A light came on inside the house and Bennett opened the door. “Jazz, are you okay? Is it G-ma? Mama?”

  “I guess they’re fine. I haven’t been home in a while. Can we talk?” She seldom cried but felt on the verge as Bennett pulled her inside.

  “Whatever you need, which looks like a change of clothes. You’re drenched.” Bennett disappeared in the direction of the laundry room and returned with a towel and a pair of sweats. “Put these on before you catch pneumonia.”

  “But I have to tell you—”

  “Get out of these things first.” Bennett hugged her and started peeling off the wet clothes.

  “I can do this.” She reached for the sweat pants Bennett held and quickly pulled them on.

  “Let’s sit.” Bennett guided Jazz to the sofa in front of the huge fireplace. “Okay, talk.”

  “I’m sorry about the time, but I couldn’t wait—” She stopped at the sound of footsteps behind them.

  “Is everything all right, Ben?” Kerstin asked from the foot of the stairs.

  “Family powwow. Join us.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Kerstin turned to go back upstairs, but Jazz said, “You’re part of the family too. Stay.”

  Kerstin pulled a blanket from an ottoman, flipped on the gas logs, and covered their legs as she settled on the other side of Jazz and fingered her wet hair. “Whatever’s going on, Jazz, we’ve got you. We love you very much.”

  “Thanks.” Kerstin’s words caused a surge of emotions, but Jazz choked it down.

 

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