Page 51 of A Legal Affair
Smiling, Daniela picked up her glass and took a sip of wine, though she knew it wasn’t wise to drink alcohol on an empty—and as yet unstable—stomach. “What about you and your father?” she casually probed. “Are you two close?”
Just as she’d expected, Caleb’s expression grew shuttered. “Not as close as you and your mother,” he answered abstractedly. He nodded toward the stove. “Soup smells great.”
“Wait till you taste it. It’s my sister-in-law’s mother’s secret recipe.” Daniela ladled tortilla soup into two ceramic bowls and grabbed two spoons, then carried everything over to the table. “Don’t worry about catching my germs,” she joked as she served Caleb. “I didn’t cough or breathe into the pot.”
He grinned. “I’ll take my chances.”
She settled into a chair beside him. It wasn’t exactly a romantic candlelight dinner at Le Rêve, but it was as good a start as any.
“What did I miss in class today?” she asked as they began eating.
“Get the notes from April,” Caleb told her. “I don’t do encore lectures.”
“Not even for the sick and shut-in?”
“Nah.” Dark eyes glinting with amusement, he gave her a long, considering look. “Come to think of it, you don’t look all that bad for someone three days into the flu.”
She laughed. “That’s not what you said when we were standing on the porch.”
“What I mean is, when I had the flu, I was laid up for a week.”
“That’s surprising. You don’t strike me as the type of person who gets sick very often.”
“I don’t. The last time I had the flu was in tenth grade.”
She grinned. “In that case, you should be totally immune to me.”
He bent his head over his bowl. “Not quite,” he said, his voice pitched so low she couldn’t be sure she’d heard right.
Except she knew she had.
Hiding a private smile, she swallowed another mouthful of soup. “I have Sister Jenkins to thank for my speedy recovery,” she informed Caleb.
“Yeah?” He eyed her curiously. “Who’s Sister Jenkins?”
“A woman who attends my mother’s church. She’s this tiny, demure, soft-spoken lady—until she opens her mouth to pray. And then it’s like she’s calling down the heavens in this loud, hellfire-and-brimstone, Southern Baptist preacher voice. It’s a little scary, I tell you.”
Caleb chuckled. “Sounds more comical than scary.”
“That’s what my brother Noah said. The whole time Sister Jenkins was praying over me, he could barely keep himself from cracking up.”
“Your brother was here with you?”
Daniela nodded, wondering if she’d only imagined the note of relief in Caleb’s voice. “He came over yesterday to take care of me. It was just like old times,” she said with a reminiscent smile.
Caleb sipped his wine, watching her with a quiet, focused absorption that made her feel as if they were the only two people in the world. No other man had ever made her feel that way, as if every word she spoke was of paramount interest to him.
“How many siblings do you have?” he asked.
“Two older brothers.”
“They must be pretty protective of you.”
“Noah is. Always has been.” She shrugged, idly toying with the stem of her wineglass. “At the end of the day, they both know I can take care of myself.”
Humor lifted one corner of Caleb’s mouth. “I can only imagine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean? How am I supposed to take that?”
