Not What She Seems

Chapter 1

Alana Roman was about the most beautiful woman in the room. Raven hair, brown eyes, skin was clear and softly pale as could be, and a smile that could light up the night better than any moon. When Jarrod spotted her across the dance floor, he couldn't stop staring, but Nat Springer took hold of his arm.

"Easy there, old man," Springer said.

"What?" Jarrod asked.

"You have your eye on Alana Roman."

"Is that her name? Just looking. I don't know her. How do you know her?"

"That's a story," Springer said, "and yes, she is just my type – "

"Every beautiful woman is your type," Jarrod said, "but you are married."

"So is she," Springer said and nodded toward a man who was leaving the refreshment table with two cups of punch.

Jarrod watched the man take one to Alana Roman. She took it with a smile. "Who is he?" Jarrod asked.

"Steve Roman," Springer said. "He owns a shipping business here in town."

"I don't remember seeing either one of them before," Jarrod said.

"Alana is from California. Steve came here from Iowa."

"Iowa? In the shipping business?"

"Well, the story goes that Steve Roman's parents came out here years ago, before he was born, looking for gold. Daddy never found any, and right before Steve was born he took sick and died. But Mama pulled herself together after Steve was born, and she found gold."

Now Jarrod was curious. "He doesn't look old enough for his mother to have found gold."

"Down in southern California," Springer said. "Hit it big enough to get back to Iowa on. Steve was brought up there and inherited enough from Mama to come back here and start the shipping business."

Suddenly, Alana looked their way. She didn't look at Springer. She did look at Jarrod – and smiled.

"Well, that's interesting," Jarrod said.

"Just be careful there," Springer said. "I said she was married and she is, but she's going looking again."

Jarrod raised an eyebrow.

Springer said, "They're getting divorced."

"They sure don't look like a couple that's getting divorced," Jarrod said.

"It's amicable," Springer said. "Steve still keeps Alana on his arm – at least until they work out the terms of the divorce. That's taking a little while."

Jarrod suddenly understood. "Which one of them do you represent?"

Springer smiled. "Steve. They really do seem to still like each other. They just want a divorce, and that's about all I can say on the matter."

Not even a year past being widowed, Jarrod didn't quite understand how two people, married and still liking one another, could want to be divorced. Thinking of Beth put an ache in his heart that he didn't like having, so he let it and the wondering about the Romans go.

Even though Alana was glancing his way again.

Jarrod turned and headed in the other direction. The ballroom was full of San Francisco's finest, all decked out in their best formal wear for a ball to celebrate the coming new year. Here and there men were talking business, women were talking about children and silly husbands, and couples were dancing, smiling. A band was playing a waltz. Jarrod parked himself out of the way and watched, and drank champagne.

"Jarrod!"

Looking to see who had called his name, Jarrod spotted Adam Howard coming his way, his hand extended in greeting. Jarrod shook hands with his old client. "Adam, good to see you. How've you been?"

"Couldn't be better," Howard said. "Are you going to be in town long?"

"Another week or so," Jarrod said. "Why? Do you need a lawyer?"

"No, but I could stand to talk some business with you," Howard said. "I have an opportunity to buy some land out Stockton way. I'd like your opinion."

"Come on by the office tomorrow," Jarrod said. "I'll be free after about two or so. How are Marcy and Davy?"

"Just fine, just fine. Davy's growing like a weed."

"He must be about three or four now."

"Four this coming April." Howard suddenly sobered. "I heard about – well, about your marriage. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Jarrod."

"Thank you," Jarrod said quietly.

"I guess that's why we haven't seen you out and about in these affairs lately," Howard said.

"It takes a while to get your bearings again," Jarrod said. He didn't know how much Howard really knew about his marriage to Beth and the aftermath, but right now he didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm sorry Marcy isn't here," Howard said. "She'd be just the girl to get you dancing again."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Maybe next time. I'm just getting my feet wet in the social world again anyway."

Howard gave him a slight slap on the back. "It's good to see you, Jarrod. I know how it is to lose the one you love. Take your time. You need to."

Jarrod remembered Howard's wife, who had died only about six years ago. Only a year or so later, Howard met his current wife Marcy, much younger than he was. She had lit up his life again. She had given him a son. Jarrod smiled. "Thanks, Adam," he said again.

Jarrod finished the drink he'd been nursing, put the glass down on a tray to be collected, then stepped outside into a courtyard to smoke a cigar. A few other men were out there smoking in groups of two or three, talking business mainly. Jarrod didn't have any business going with anyone here right now. He was in San Francisco finishing up business with two clients who were not here tonight. They were not in the social whirl, and right now he wasn't sure he should have been either, but something had told him he had to stop living in a lost past. He had to get out there in the world he'd known before Beth, this world of the San Francisco elite. He wondered how Beth would have fit in here – a schoolteacher from Pennsylvania among this society of businesspeople and politicians. He shook her out of his head again. She was then. This was now.

"Hello," she said.

She was right beside him before he noticed. That raven hair, those dark eyes, that confident smile. "Hello," he said to Alana Roman.

"I saw you talking with my husband's lawyer," she said, "so I suppose he told you I might not be married for long."

Straight to the point, wasn't she? Jarrod backed away a little bit inwardly, not sure he was ready for the direct attack he thought he was about to get. "Nat and I are old friends from law school," Jarrod said, "but he doesn't discuss his cases with me."

"I suspect he told you my name, at least," Alana said. "He told me yours, Mr. Barkley."

Jarrod nodded a greeting to her. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Roman."

"Don't feel like my husband is going to come after you because we're talking," Alana said. "We are getting divorced, and Steve is perfectly happy if I talk to other men while he talks to other women."

"I'm sorry things haven't worked out for you," Jarrod said.

"These things happen," Alana said. "You're not married, I take it."

"I'm a widower," Jarrod said, and hoped maybe the information might put a bit of cushioning between the two of them.

"Oh," Alana said, seeming a little startled.

Jarrod guessed Nat Springer hadn't told her that.

"I'm very sorry," Alana said. And she did seem to back off a little bit. "These social affairs must be a bit trying for you under the circumstances."

Jarrod said, "I'm still working my way back into them."

"You're a lawyer," Alana said. "I suppose these affairs are part of your business life, just as they are for practically every man here. If you want to drum up new business, you have to come to these little things."

"Something like that," Jarrod said.

Alana gave him a slight smile again. "Could I coerce you into one dance with me, to help you get back into the swing of things?"

Her smile was disarming. One dance couldn't hurt. Jarrod put his cigar out. "I consider my arm twisted," he said.

And for some reason, he found himself thinking about Adam Howard, and how he'd found happiness in a second marriage when he had never expected to. Why did Alana Roman make him think of that?