A Case For Love (Royals Series Book 3) Read online

  David’s phone rang beside him on the table. He involuntarily tensed, wondering if it was his father calling back to light into him some more. He glanced at the screen and sighed in relief.

  “Hi, Linette.”

  “David. Just wanted to wish you a safe trip.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m great,” he answered in a relaxed tone.

  He wasn’t in the habit of letting his feelings hang out there. He allowed very few people into that inner sanctum, and this woman was not yet one of them.

  “How about you? How’s that big case shaping up that you’re working on?”

  They continued to talk for several minutes, and then David told her he had to go. Linette had a tendency to go on and on.

  When Linette had first been introduced to David, he had felt an initial spark of interest. Three months and six dates later, that initial spark, far from growing, was threatening to go out. It wasn’t that anything was wrong with Linette. In fact, on paper, she was perfect for him. She was beautiful, poised, charming and intelligent. As a fellow attorney, they also had something in common and therefore had no difficulty conversing. Yet, for all that, something was missing. He believed it was the assurance in his spirit that would have convinced him she was the woman he was meant to spend his life with.

  Shaking his head at his line of thinking, David remembered a conversation he’d had once with a fellow Harvard student about marriage. His name was Sunil. He’d been from India and had told David that as soon as he completed his legal studies, he would be returning home to an arranged marriage. After David had expressed his disgust with the notion of his parents selecting his spouse, Sunil had chided that westerners over thought this love thing.

  “In India,” he’d said, “arranged marriages are overwhelmingly successful. Only about one in every hundred arranged marriages ends in divorce. Compare this to marriages in the US where the ratio is one in two.”

  Intrigued, David had asked why Sunil thought them to be so successful.

  Sunil had responded with a matter-of-fact shrug.

  “Because there is no dilemma with having to choose the right partner. That has been done for you. Issues such as parental approval, background, common interests and so on, have all been solved because your marriage partner has been screened by your parents. Also, because you haven’t had a lot to do with the decision you accept it more readily. Like how you accept the color of your skin or your eye color because you can’t change it. The final thing is your expectations are lower in an arranged marriage. You don’t know what you are getting so you have no false expectations or delusions. In India, we give greater weight to compatibility and financial security than romantic love.”

  David smiled now thinking of Sunil. His debating skills had been phenomenal, and he had always made convincing arguments. No doubt he was now one of India’s finest legal minds. However, he had never been able to convince David that an arranged marriage, or even a marriage of convenience, could be better than a marriage based entirely on love. This left him in a frustrating quandary. He was thirty-five years old, had begun hearing from various quarters that being single did not bode well for his political aspirations, and yet, he could not bring himself to marry for anything but love.

  As David was in the process of draining his cup, he glanced up and saw a familiar face. She was tall and slim with an olive complexion (that hinted at middle-eastern ancestry) and long, thick, dark hair that flowed past her shoulders. Even though she had worn her hair pinned up on that first day they had met, he would know that face anywhere. It had been seared on his brain for ten months. Strangely enough, the name eluded him. What was it? Rhonda…Rochelle…Roena. No. None of those names sounded right.

  David was still trying to remember her name when she looked up, and their eyes met.

  When she smiled in greeting, David felt his heart miss a beat. The next second, though, he reminded himself she was an employee of Jones Law which made her off limits. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, broke eye contact and returned to his laptop.

  Chapter 2

  Ronnie Dickson was not sure how to feel about the fact that she and David Jones were traveling on the same flight. On the one hand, she couldn’t help the racing of her heart and the sweatiness of her palms at the sight of him. On the other hand, she was trying to fight her intense feelings of attraction because she knew they were pointless. Nothing was ever going to develop between her and David Jones.

  She eventually had come to this conclusion after spending the days and weeks following their initial meeting, waiting in anticipation to see how God was going to deliver on his promise that her dream of a boss was going to be her groom. Ten months later, she was sure she had heard God wrong, and it had been just her overactive imagination speaking, because, far from marrying David Jones, she had never even interacted with him.

  Mr. Jones worked on the top floor with the other senior managers. She worked several floors beneath him and was a legal assistant to three junior associates, so they never had any reason to liaise with each other. Added to that, the strict policy to which she had signed her name made it clear that relationships between managers and subordinates were strictly forbidden. So, unless she was going to quit her job at the firm to pursue him, a pathetic notion at best, then nothing could develop anyway.

  Upon reaching her assigned seat, Ronnie shoved her carry-on in the luggage compartment and proceeded to sit. She glanced at the passenger to her left, and her head jerked backward.

  Sitting in the seat right next to hers was David Jones.

  ~*~*~*~

  David Jones was sure that he had just entered the Twilight Zone.

  What were the odds that this woman, this legal assistant, who he found quite attractive yet had managed to successfully place to the back of his mind, would end up seated next to him in first class?

  David mentally shook his head. He was overreacting. There was no reason for this to be an issue. The benefit of being in first class was that the seats were positioned to offer privacy to individual travelers. He could lean back into the cocoon-like seat and not even see her if he didn’t want to. He could forget she was even there. In fact, that was exactly what he would do.

  Placing the complimentary headphones over his ears, he selected a classical music station, reclined in his seat and proceeded to continue reviewing the brief on his laptop.

  ~*~*~*~

  An hour into the flight, Ronnie listened to David Jones give his dining order to the stewardess.

  “I’ll have the seared fillet of Herefordshire beef with truffle taglierini, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower, and for dessert, the nougat cream with mango gel and praline pearls.”

  She loved the way he spoke. Perfect diction. Enunciating each word.

  “Excellent choice, sir. Would you like a drink from the bar with your meal?”

  “I’ll have another bottle of sparkling water with a slice of lemon, thank you.”

  Ronnie wondered if she should engage him. She was itching to, but he’d been quite aloof. Suppose he didn’t want to be disturbed? She took a deep breath. Well, there was only one way to find out.

  “I beg to differ,” she said with unexpected boldness. “That really was not an excellent choice.”

  He sat up in his seat and glanced across at her in surprise.

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “May I make a suggestion regarding your meal selection?”

  “Suggestion…?”

  “That meal is likely to give you gas, which will make for a very uncomfortable seven hours.”

  “Excuse me?” he sputtered.

  “The greasy beef, those cruciferous vegetables, that creamy desert, even the sparkling water. All gas-producing foods. Poor choices for a flight this long.”

  David seemed taken aback by her forthrightness.

  “Really.”

  She nodded with firm confidence. “If it were a two-hour flight it wouldn’t mak
e a difference what you ate, but with these long haul flights when you’re in a seated position for so many hours you need to be more selective, or you could end up with gastrointestinal issues.”

  He seemed at a loss for words for a moment.

  “Do you moonlight as a nurse?” he eventually managed.

  “My mom’s a clinical dietician. She was the one who cautioned me to stay away from those types of foods whenever we traveled together on long flights. There was this one time I decided to rebel. I was traveling on my own to Morocco. No mom peeping over my shoulder. So I went crazy. Had the works. Steak, fries, roll with butter.” She shook her head at the memory. “Midway through the flight, I felt as though someone had my entrails in a vise-grip. I never repeated that mistake again.”

  After a pause, scratching his cheek in some bit of confusion, he spoke.

  “Let me get this right. So, is it now your mission in life to warn unsuspecting passengers?”

  The tips of Ronnie’s ears felt hot. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite so sure of herself. What if he thought she was some crazy weirdo?

  “Perhaps,” she said in a small voice.

  He watched her for a moment then a corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Last year I took an eight-hour flight to Holland. I had a steak and potato meal and my usual soda water and thinking of it now I did experience some discomfort from gas. So, what would you recommend that I order instead?”

  That was all the encouragement Ronnie needed. She leaned forward eagerly.

  “Some lean protein and non-gassy vegetables, like carrots. I’d also pass on the starchy carbs. They’ll raise your blood sugar levels and give you a boost of energy when you really should be sleeping. Instead of the sparkling water, I’d go with distilled water, herbal teas or unsweetened juice.”

  Just then the stewardess showed up with Ronnie’s meal. David glanced with interest as she lifted the lid to reveal poached fish, tomato, and pommes fondant.

  The stewardess then placed David’s meal before him.

  Ronnie secretly smiled when she heard him say, “I want to change my order. I’ll have what she’s having.”

  When the stewardess left, David reached across the way and held out a hand to Ronnie.

  “David Jones,” he said.

  “Ronnie Dickson,” she replied, placing her cutlery down to briefly shake his hand.

  “Ronnie, which department are you with again?”

  “Property law.”

  “Klarke, Zephyrhills, and Davies?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Must keep you very busy. That section has quite a workload.”

  “I’m not complaining. It’s interesting work.”

  Just then the stewardess reappeared with David’s order.

  After a few minutes of casting furtive glances at him, she asked politely, “So how’s the meal?”

  “Quite good,” he said with a smile. “Thanks again for the recommendation. Everybody should be so thoughtful.”

  They ate in silence for a while, and then he asked. “So, your trip to London, business or pleasure?”

  “I’m taking the connecting flight to Switzerland. And it’s not business and it’s definitely not pleasure. A relative of mine is ill.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not too serious I hope?”

  “I’m afraid it is. I’m just trusting in God’s mercy right now.”

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “You’re a Christian?”

  “I most certainly am,” she said a bit defensively.

  Ever since her college days, she was used to being on the receiving end of negativity from that admission. It didn’t stop her from declaring it, though. She always remembered the passage where Jesus said, “If you are ashamed of me and my words, I’ll also be ashamed of you before my Father.”

  Ronnie was surprised to see David Jones hold out his hand for a fist bump. As their knuckles touched, he declared, “Great to meet a fellow soldier in the army of the Lord.”

  “I knew there was something I liked about you, Mr. Jones,” she teased, careful to keep her tone light.

  “Call me David, please,” he said. “Tell me, how long have you lived in Chicago?”

  “How do you know I’m not a native?”

  “Not with that accent. Brooklyn or Queens?”

  “Born in Brooklyn, moved to Long Island when I was ten, lived in Manhattan for the four years I attended Columbia.”

  “Columbia? That’s my alma mater,” he said. “I did my undergraduate studies there. So, you moved to Chicago right after college?”

  “No. I did my paralegal certificate first. Then I applied to firms all over the country. Alistair & Kauffman just happened to be the first one to call.”

  “…then you came to Chicago by chance?”

  “I believe my steps are ordered by the Lord, so my coming to Chicago was part of His plan.”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  “What was your major at Columbia?” she asked.

  “Double major. Politics and Sociology.”

  “You always wanted to be involved in political life, then.”

  He shook his head. “No. I always wanted to be a lawyer. I felt that a course of study which defines social attitudes and mores and how the political world either reinforces or challenges the prevailing social order would be a good foundation for a law degree.”

  “Still, that background must help now you’re a politician.”

  “I’m not a politician yet. I haven’t even filed nominations. I may not get the required signatures.”

  Ronnie took a bite of her pommes fondant and looked David in the eye.

  “Somehow you don’t strike me as the type of man who’d enter a race and not be sure he’d even win the nomination. I’m pretty sure you’ll get those required signatures.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “What about you?” David asked. “What did you study at Columbia?”

  “Major in Business, minor in photography.”

  “How did that combination lead to you becoming a legal assistant?”

  “Long story.”

  David pushed up his sweater sleeve to reveal a large Breitling watch. “We’ve got time,” he said with a broad smile.

  Ronnie expelled a long sigh.

  “When I was a kid, I wanted to be at least a dozen things, but I could never settle on just one. My mother always wanted me to go to college, so it wasn’t an option. And to get her off my case I chose something practical – business, and something I really enjoyed, photography. But I’d toyed with the idea of being a lawyer for a while, so I decided to do the paralegal certificate.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you just enroll in law school after Columbia?”

  “I didn’t want to commit myself. I decided to try being a legal assistant first.”

  “Isn’t that a bit like becoming a nurse to see if you want to be a doctor?” he asked skeptically.

  “I hope you aren’t underestimating how challenging and rewarding a paralegal career can be?” she asked.

  “Not at all. I consider it to be a prestigious and significant profession. And if you’re going to use this job to determine if you should become a lawyer, then that’s great,” he said.

  “So, what is it like to be in charge now? I understand you only assumed headship of the company a few weeks before I arrived.”

  “Yes. It has been pretty hectic but also very exciting.”

  David kept hidden that it had also been extremely frustrating at points because eleven months later his father was still trying to clip his wings.

  “Hey, I feel like drinking a cup of hot chocolate. Or is that likely to make me gassy too?” he teased.

  Her cheeks colored slightly, and she smiled.

  “No, it won’t. Not if they use non-dairy creamer.”

  “Join me?”

  “I think I will.”

  Chapter 3

  As she sipped her hot chocolate, Ronnie covertly observed David Jones.
Taking in his impressive physique, noticeable in the close-fitting cream sweater he wore, she wondered, not for the first time, if he was a sportsman.

  “Do you play sports?” she asked.

  “Used to play football in college.”

  She sized him up. “Quarterback,” she said with quiet conviction.

  A dark eyebrow quirked. “How’d you guess?”

  “Not hard to. You’re too slim to be a defensive or offensive lineman and too tall to be a running back. Quarterback seemed like the best option.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Full marks, Ronnie.”

  “I was having a conversation with a friend recently about what makes a good quarterback. What would you say is the number one ability?”

  “Arm strength. Velocity is pretty important when you’re throwing a football ‘cause it allows you to complete a pass before a defensive player can recover and possibly deflect or intercept the ball.”

  “I said quick release.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t have exceptional arm strength, then the quarterback had better have a quick release.”

  “What was your skill?”

  He grinned. “Arm strength. I don’t think I was born with a great release like some guys. But I more than made up for it in arm strength. It allowed me to throw the ball at a very high speed.”

  “Did you ever think of going pro?”

  He shook his head. “I enjoyed football for what it was, a hobby. I always wanted to practice law.”

  Ronnie nodded. He always knew what he wanted to do. From what she had derived so far, he was focused and determined, a planner and a plotter. She, on the other hand, was still weighing whether she should pursue a law degree or her first love, photography.

  “Do you still play?”

  “These days I’m more into basketball. I occasionally play with some young men at the Changing Lives Community Centre where I do my pro bono work.”

  Ronnie blinked in surprise. “Changing Lives?”