Free Girl Three by Tracy March

Something had caught his attention.
    Michael followed his line of vision.
    At the far end of the hall, Jessie stood viewing a sculpture of a young girl holding a conch shell. She was the only person who had stopped to appreciate the art. Michael was intrigued by her curious mind, and he wondered what else interested her outside of bioethics.
    Ian gazed at her the same way Michael had looked at Elizabeth Briel. “That’s Jessica Croft,” he said.
    “Sam’s sister.”
    “Helena didn’t mention that she’s so…”
    “So what?” Michael struggled to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.
    “Captivating,” Ian murmured.
    Michael’s gut clenched. “Helena met her?” At her office at 8:05 this morning.
    “Earlier today.” Ian nodded, his gaze never leaving Jessie. “She said Sam and her sister were complete opposites.”
    Just as Michael had hoped.
    Jessie made her way down the hall toward them, pausing before each sculpture. It was easy to see why she’d caught Ian’s eye. Her red strapless dress accented promising curves, coming off as provocative yet tasteful, and the black shawl she wore had slipped off her shapely bare shoulders. Tendrils of her auburn hair fell from a casual updo. Her lips glistened with an understated, natural blush that enticed Michael more than any red lipstick ever had.
    Of course Ian found her captivating. Any man would. Michael certainly did, and that would only make his job harder.
    Jessie entered the Garden Court, glancing their way but not focusing on them. Michael watched her eyes. Not the uninhibited eyes he had seen when she was with Nina, but the mysterious eyes he saw in her television interviews. Pulling him in, pushing him away. He inhaled deeply, the air crisp and electric, as if there’d been a lightning strike. He popped a couple of ice cubes into his mouth and crunched loudly.
    “My, my,” Ian said, his gaze following her as he took the last sip of his wine.
    “What else did Helena say about her?” Michael asked.
    Ian smirked. “Don’t get any fresh ideas, Gillette. Jessica Croft is way out of your league.” He winked at Michael and strode away toward the bar on the far side of the room.
    Michael shook his head. He’d expected a dig from Ian. The guy probably couldn’t stand the fact that Michael looked better in his suit.
    Jessie got in line at the bar nearest Michael, confidently standing alone. People glanced her way, but no one approached her. Some pointed while her back was turned and covered their mouths, whispering.
    Michael crunched his last ice cube and figured he could use a refill. He wove through the crowd, keeping a bead on Jessie. Halfway to the bar, he hit a snag, a sturdy grasp on his bicep courtesy of Judge Ryan Croft. The man was probably desperate to find a neutral party in the group, much less a sympathetic one. Michael was neither.
    “Sir?” Michael’s greeting was more of a question. A why-are-you-publicly-associating-with-me question. Especially with Jessie close by.
    “What is Jessica doing here?” Croft asked, his words hushed and accusing, as if Michael could’ve kept her away.
    “The same thing you are, I suspect. Paying her respects to Sam.” Although Michael would argue that Jessie’s were much more sincere.
    Croft tightened his grip on Michael’s arm. “I suggest you dispense with your attitude.”
    Michael swallowed a string of curses, his gaze never leaving Jessie, whose back was to them.
    Don’t turn around.
    “Helena Alden invited her,” Michael said.
    “I would like to have known to expect her here.”
    Michael looked Croft in the eyes. “Quite frankly, I didn’t expect you to be here. I planned to check in with you after the event.” He refocused on Jessie. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it would be detrimental for Jessica to see us together.”
    Croft shook his head. “Relax, Michael.” His mouth turned up at one corner. “What makes you think you’re that memorable?”

Chapter Eleven
    Jessie