Dinner at Sam's Author: D.L. White

Vanessa Jackson is just trying to get her life together.
It's been more than a year since her marriage ended and her husband left her and their children destitute and in foreclosure. She and her daughters are making it... barely, but making it. If she could just divorce that sonofabitch, the future would be bright, but Warren is fighting the process every step of the way.

If she wants a divorce, and to move on with her life, she needs an attorney.

Gibson, the youngest of four brothers, all attorneys at Kincaid Family Law, is the rebel. He's the one who's never going to do what Mother- Sylvia "Silver Shark" Kincaid, wants him to do. Instead of serving the interests of wealthy and high profile clients, Gibson prefers to serve the down on their luck sector, earning him the nickname "community lawyer". When Sylvia rejects Vanessa as a client, it's a lucky break that she literally runs into Gibson.

The attraction between them is immediate, smoldering, mutual. And distracting. Vanessa’s just trying to get divorced, not pick up a new man, and certainly not her divorce attorney.

Gibson is trying to do right by his new client, but he can't lie; he wants to help Vanessa get divorced. So he can have her to himself.

But Warren still has a few tricks up his sleeve, Gibson has family commitments holding him back from being real with himself... and Vanessa swears she's ready to move on, but she's hiding a huge part of her past that she's not ready for Gibson to know.


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EXCERPT
Sylvia’s demeanor had run the gamut from warm and friendly to combative and now she looked like she wanted to toss me out of her office on my ass. She pushed herself up from the chair and leaned onto the desk.

“I am not in the habit of sending clients to my competitors, Ms. Jackson. I suggest you consult the Yellow Pages. If there’s nothing else, Janet will show you to the front desk. The receptionists will validate your parking.”

She pressed a button on the phone and chirped brusquely. “We’re done, here. Tell Gibson to come to my office, please.”

“Of course, ma’am,” came the crystal clear response from the speaker.

I stood and slid the handle of my bag onto my shoulder. I was even more eager to get out of that office, out of that suite, out of that building. This was a bad idea.

“I’ll see myself out,” I mumbled, almost stopping to offer a handshake to Sylvia, but she was preoccupied by the stacks on her desk. I’d been dismissed. I pulled open the double doors and hurried down the hall toward the front desk, head down, on a mission. I rounded a corner and walked right into a wide, solid chest.

“Oh!” I leapt backward a few steps and tried to get my bearings. My bag, which slid from my arm mid-collision, was splayed on the carpet between us, half of its contents spread across the hallway.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry. Let me help you clean that up.”

A well- built man in a dark, tailored suit squatted to gather my belongings and handed them to me so that I could stuff them inside my bag. I was thankful that I hadn’t been dragging around any personal items— tampons, lip gloss... mini vibrators. My datebook, pens and business card case were embarrassing enough.

“Did we get everything?”

His eyes swept the area, then lifted to mine, accompanied by the most handsome smile I’d seen since I first met Warren Jackson. Smiles were my kryptonite and his… mmmph. Thick lips, two rows of straight white teeth, deep skin tone and dark, soulful brown eyes, the kind that made you want to pour a glass of brown liquor and get lost in them.

My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of sawdust and my breathing was slightly labored. “I… I think we got everything. Thank you. And sorry for running you over.”

“No need to apologize. I was looking at my phone, not watching where I was going.” He extended a hand, palm up. Without even thinking, I slid my palm across his. “Gibson Kincaid. Are you a client?”

His question made me laugh, which wasn’t a reaction I expected to have at not being accepted as a client. “No. In fact, I met with your mother and we decided that Kincaid isn’t the firm I’m looking for.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline, which I noticed was lush with dark-as-night curls. ”Did she give you the bring them to their knees, we make them pay speech? She loves that line.”

His smile was devilish. The twinkle in his eye was way too tempting. The lilting, teasing tone of his voice had my thoughts meandering in a direction they had no business going in. I was in this stuffy grey office trying to divorce my husband, not pick up a new man.

“Uh, yep,” I answered with a deep nod. “I did get that speech. Unfortunately, as much as I want to uhm… make him pay… Kincaid isn’t the firm for me.”

“Well, that’s too bad, if you really feel that way. But not all of us practice law like my mother does. Some of us are little more sensible.”

He smiled again, sending sparks skipping down my spine. “Tell you what,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket to pull out a business card holder. He plucked a card from the silver case and flicked it out at me between two fingers. Two long, thick, manicured fingers. “Give me a call. We can talk. If I can work something out, I’d—”

“Gibson!”

We both turned at the sound of Sylvia screeching down the hall, disturbing the quiet. I felt bad that I’d kept him from his mother’s beck and call, so I took the card and stepped around him.

“Thanks. Sorry to keep you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, still standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly in no hurry to answer to Sylvia. “I didn’t catch your name, Miss….”

“Vanessa. Vanessa Jackson.”

“Ms. Jackson,” he responded, extending his hand again. Again, I slid my palm across his and reveled in the gentle strength as it closed around mine. “It was a pleasure running into you. Please do give me a call, before you call another firm.”

Before I was ready for him to do so, he released my hand and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“I will definitely give you a call, Gibson.” I began to back away, feeling like if I didn’t start moving, I was never going to get out of the building. And, despite having met Gibson, I wanted to get out of that building. “Have a nice day.”

Just then, Sylvia rounded the corner, barreling down the hallway with fists clenched.

“Gib! I’ve been calling you. When I summon you, I mean right away! I don’t have all day.” Her eye caught my form lingering near the door the lobby. “Ms. Jackson, I thought you had left. Is there something else I can do for you?”

“No ma’am.” I pushed through the door and stumbled back out to the visitor area. There was nothing Sylvia could do for me.
Gibson, though…if I was a different kind of woman, Gibson Kincaid could do a lot for me.

But I wasn’t, I remembered, coming down from my high. I was a woman in a mess of a marriage, trying to get out of it. An attraction to a man that wanted to be my divorce lawyer wouldn’t turn out well at all. 
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