Tito finished his conference call, leaned back in his office chair, and took the first sip of his third cup of coffee while he scrolled through the news and business sections of the Miami Herald online. His schedule was remarkably clear for the rest of the day. Between his assistant Ella and the enthusiastic social worker he'd hired earlier that year - Bailey Reid - donations were coming in steadily and the juvenile diversion program he'd started for trouble teens was proceeding smoothly, well exceeding his expectations. They had just wrapped up their first summer program a month or so ago, and then launched the mentorship program that would carry through until the end of the school year.
Tito checked the time. He still had a few minutes before he had to leave. He'd promised Bailey - who was speaking at a lunch meeting today to raise more funds for the fledgling organization Opportunity For Change, or, as it was known around the office, OFC - that he'd pick up her friend Caylee for her at the airport. Caylee was the recent hire for the law firm owned by Bailey's husband Jonathon and his two partners, Ritchie and Sam. And Ritchie just happened to be married to Tito's sister Maria.
None of them, however, had been available pick up Caylee at the airport, so Bailey and Maria had helpfully "volunteered" him. He had no idea why the woman couldn't simply take an Uber. But since she came from the same snooty old money Northeastern background that Jonathon did, he supposed she was used to people just being at her beck and call.
Stop being a jerk, he told himself. With everything Ritchie and his partners at the law firm had done to support OFC - not to mention the chance they had given him personally when few others would have - the least he could do was pick up their newest lawyer at the airport, and be pleasant about it.
Being pleasant, however, was not one of his strong suits. Tito believed in getting to the point, and if people didn't like what he had to say, that was their problem.
Tito took another long drink of his coffee and turned his attention back to the Miami Herald.
He scanned the local news section, and paused for a second at a headline, and then sat up straighter.
Prominent Miami Attorney and Wife Die in California Plane Crash.
But what caught his attention was the name in the first paragraph. Bradford Thornton. He skimmed the article. Apparently Thornton and his wife had been passengers in a small plane operated by a local realtor in Napa Valley, when the plane crashed into a vineyard. The reasons for the crash were being investigated.
The article noted that Thornton had been in Napa reviewing potential investment opportunities, then went on to discuss his illustrious background as a lawyer at one of the oldest and most prestigious law firms in Miami, and his family lineage. There was some mention also of his wife's involvement in various charities and her position as a socialite.
Tito leaned back again, mildly curious but indifferent. Bradford Thornton was nothing to him.
* * *
The sense of relief Caylee felt when the wheels of the plane touched down at Miami International Airport was palpable. She was finally free.
Free from the boring job she'd held for the past year at a top securities law firm in New York. Long long hours and very high pay, but nothing that ignited her passion as a lawyer.
Free from her interfering mother who piled more and more social obligations on Caylee's already packed schedule, accepting committee assignments on Caylee's behalf without consulting her, and RSVPing her a yes to galas and charity balls she had no interest in attending, setting her up to be escorted by men she had no interest in dating much less marrying.
She'd even schemed with Jonathon's mother, Catherine, whom they were related to by marriage - her stepfather and Catherine were third cousins - to make Caylee and Jonathon an item.
Well, that little plan had backfired. Instead of breaking up Jonathon's relationship with his soon-to-be wife, Bailey, Caylee had instead secured herself a job at Jonathon's personal injury law firm here in Miami, escaping once and for all from all those social engagements and eligible bachelors her mother had pressed upon her. And she'd gotten to dance at Jonathon and Bailey's wedding, and spend some time with his law partners and their families, solidifying the offer from the law firm she was joining.
Even better, she was now free from a situation that had started out awkward and become increasingly uncomfortable over recent months. Now that she was here, in Miami, she was certain she could just put all of that out of her mind, or at least into its proper perspective. Goodbye uneasy feelings and goodbye to the disturbing dreams that had haunted her lately.
Hello Florida sunshine, an exciting job, and a new adventure.
By the time she had walked from her gate down the long corridors and took the escalator to baggage claim, Caylee was struggling to maintain her good mood. As far as she was concerned, the Miami airport was the worst, and she'd flow into a lot of airports, some crazier than others. Here, it just seemed like the walk was endless.
At least she'd managed to travel fairly light, all things considered. Just one large rolling suitcase, her carryon, and an oversize tote that held her laptop, purse, and what was left of the giant water bottle and snacks she'd brought along for the trip.
Bailey had texted that Maria's brother Tito - who was also Bailey's boss - would pick her up, but she didn't know what he looked like, and had neglected to ask what kind of car he'd be driving. Tito hadn't been at Jonathon and Bailey's wedding. Apparently there had been a conference hosted by the ACLU on juvenile justice and something they called the "preschool to prison pipeline," which made Caylee wonder what the heck that meant. She knew he and Bailey worked with juvenile offenders, but surely not kids who weren't even in kindergarten yet? Anyway, Tito was now part of some task force planning lobbying efforts in state legislatures, so she supposed he got a pass on missing the wedding.
She pulled out her phone to text Bailey, then remembered the whole reason Bailey wasn't meeting her now was because she was speaking at some lunch meeting. Caylee slipped her phone back into her pocket and looked around.
Unfortunately there was no one waving a sign with her name on it from a car window. Maybe she'd give Maria a call. After all, Tito was her brother.
Just as she was about to a van pulled up to the curb, so close she took an involuntary step back. The driver got out and came around the car. He was wearing a white t-shirt, that showed off the tattoos on his arms, and twill chinos. He looked lean and muscled and slightly dangerous, with wavy black hair and a look in his eyes that might be arrogance or maybe annoyance.
"Caylee?" he asked, looking her over in a way that made her feel vaguely self-conscious.
"Yes, and you must be-"
But he was already walking past her, opening the rear of the van. "That all you've got?" he asked, gesturing to her single wheeled suitcase and carryon. She was carrying the tote.
When she nodded, he hefted her luggage into the back of the van and closed it, jerking his head toward the front passenger door.
"Get in."
Ok, that was bordering on rude. Was this guy even Tito? A little shiver of apprehension went through her but she dismissed it as ridiculous. Having her abducted from an airport in Florida wouldn't be-
He cut her off before she could complete the thought.
"Is there a problem?"
Caylee turned to face the man who had now walked around her and was holding the passenger door open on the van.
She steeled her look. She might not have been in a courtroom yet, but she'd been practicing in the mirror how to stare down hostile witnesses.
Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect. Instead of cowing under her gaze, his lips twitched slightly. If there was one thing Caylee would not tolerate, it was being laughed at.
"No," she said, her voice ripe with sarcasm. "Why would there be a problem when a man I've never seen before screeches to the curb in a dark van and almost runs me down, asks my name but doesn't bother to tell me his, and demands that I get in the van." She glanced around him through the open door. "Sorry, just checking for duct tape."
He stared at her, that smile still hovering at the corners of his mouth.
"Jack said you're a handful."
"A what?" Of all the ridiculous, sexist things to say, Caylee thought, while noting that if he referred to her sort of cousin Jonathon as "Jack" he obviously knew him pretty well.
"I'm Tito Martinez," he said, reaching out a hand. She reluctantly put her hand in his and felt her eyes widen at the little jolt that went through her when his larger hand closed around hers. His grip felt strong and slightly calloused, although she thought he worked in an office all day. He held her hand for a second too long, and she looked into his eyes, trying to figure out if he'd had the same instant reaction she did. But she couldn't tell.
Caylee pulled her hand away. "Ok, then," she said, and climbed into the van.
Tito closed the door for her, then walked around and got into the driver's seat. She looked at his arm, studying the different tattoos that made up what looked like he was going for a complete sleeve. Some were more elaborate than others. One was a heart and she could see text in it - maybe a name? But she couldn't make it out without leaning closer and staring.
He glanced sideways at there as they pulled out into traffic. "My tattoos make you nervous."
"They certainly do not," she said, indignant. "I was just admiring your ink."
"Sure you were."
"Hey. I have tattoos." She held out her arm, showing him the butterfly on the inside of her wrist. "I got this when I was 16. One of my small acts of rebellion."
"Nice," he said, and she wasn't sure if he meant it or was laughing at her.
"That's not the only one I have."
Tito slowed to stop at a red light and shifted to face her. "So show me."
"You wouldn't be able to see them unless I knew you a whole lot better," Caylee told him, and felt a little shiver run through her at the thought of those strong slightly rough hands slipping under her clothes, undressing her, revealing the tattoos her clothes normally concealed.
"We'll work on that," Tito said, then turned back to the road as the light turned green.
Author's Note: Welcome to Book #4 in the Miami Lawyers series, and thank you for reading!
What do you think of Tito and Caylee's first meeting?
Is there something else behind Caylee's move to Miami?