The Way You Love Me. Donna Hill

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