bothered to read it. Scanning quickly, he noted credentials that exposed a glaring hole in his ability to sum up a person’s character with a single look, a single kiss. Evidently, a lot more than Mandy’s—Amanda’s, he corrected—appearance had changed since the summer they’d spent together.
“All rise for the Honorable Jeffrey Dobson,” the bailiff announced.
Standing, Mitch squared his shoulders.
With a rustle of black robes, a white-haired man took his place behind the raised desk at the front of the room. He nodded briefly to those in attendance. Wood creaked and feet shuffled until everyone had settled back into their chairs. Mitch’s gut tightened as the bailiff read the petition for custody of Hailey. His mouth went cotton-dry at the thought of losing his little girl.
“Counselors?” the judge asked.
At the other table, Amanda stood and gave her name.
“Ms. Markette,” Judge Dobson murmured.
Then it was his turn. “Mitchell Goodwin for the defense, Your Honor.”
The man seated on the dais adjusted rimless glasses and draped a hand over his microphone. Blue eyes hardening in an unsmiling face, Dobson stared down.
“You’re familiar with the old adage that a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client, aren’t you? You intend to be that fool, Mr. Goodwin?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Mitch snapped, though the only thing he was truly certain about was the need to protect his daughter.
* * *
AMANDA CROSSED ONE leg over the other, shifting just enough to keep Mitch in her peripheral vision. Thank goodness she’d been sitting down when he’d stepped through the stairwell door. One peek at his carefully tousled hair and sculpted features, one whiff of his woodsy cologne, and the same weak, loose-limbed feeling that had practically been her undoing at the dance had flared again. She’d nearly succumbed to it that night. Probably would have if he hadn’t suddenly abandoned her on the dance floor, leaving her with bruised lips and a crushed ego.
She eyed the man across the aisle and assured herself it wouldn’t happen again. He might’ve broken her heart once upon a time, but she wasn’t the kind of girl to chase someone who didn’t want her. Especially when that someone was her client’s ex-husband.
She guessed, in a way, she should thank him. That Sunday morning after she’d loaded all the gear and Brindle onto her dad’s trailer, she’d gone straight to her office to prepare for her newest case. The moment she’d seen Mitch’s name in her files, the second she’d discovered she would face him in court, her stomach had performed a set of acrobatics that had made her ride the night before look tame. If they’d actually spent the night together…
Well, that couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it.
Or so she’d sworn. Until just a few minutes ago, when all her nerve endings had tingled at Mitch’s touch. She’d almost reconsidered the whole idea of representing his ex-wife, only now it wasn’t just her heart at stake, but a child’s well-being, too. Her client swore that Mitch’s self-centered and career-driven attitude had destroyed their marriage and was taking its toll on their daughter.
Amanda resisted the urge to wince. She hated to think that the boy she’d loved and lost had grown into such a hard-hearted man, but if even half her client’s claims were true… Well, a little girl was entitled to more than an absentee father, one who never had time for pillow fights or school plays.
Determined to do her best for the child, Amanda drew in a steadying breath. Her hands stopped trembling. She folded them neatly and forced her lips into their trademark half smile, the one she’d perfected during countless rodeo performances and a short stint as the nation’s top barrel racer. As recently as ten days ago, her confident air had assured thousands that, no matter how dangerous the stunt, she had everything under control. That same expression came in handy whenever she wanted to impress a judge.
Or get under the skin of a particularly thorny opponent, like Mitch.
Her client stirred restlessly and tapped her long nails on the tabletop. Amanda gave the woman a warning glance while, at the front of the room, the judge sorted through paperwork associated with the case. Karen rolled a shoulder before whispering, “Do you think I’ll be able to take Hailey home with me today?”
“I doubt if he’ll rule on custody right away,” Amanda answered. “If things go smoothly, though, we’ll get you the visitation you deserve.”
Even in family law, possession counted for something, and for the past four years Mitch Goodwin had had sole custody of his daughter. Judge Dobson might resent having to cancel his vacation to hear this case, but he wouldn’t rip a healthy, reasonably well-adjusted child from the only home she’d ever known. Not without good reason. And the odds were against a seasoned attorney like the man at the other table committing an act so egregious it forced the judge’s hand.
Eventually, Amanda intended to prove that Hailey was better off with the parent who could spend the most time with her. It might take months—such cases often did—but given that Mitch carried the heaviest caseload in the state attorney’s office, she’d do it. She had only to prove how far he worked into the night—every night—leaving the care of his little girl to a parade of nannies and housekeepers, and the judge would rule in favor of her client.
Permanent custody and adequate child support was their long-term goal. Visitation, on the other hand, was practically an inalienable right. She’d lock that in today.
“You have to be patient. We’ll start with an afternoon visit and go from there.”
Karen sighed and flipped bottle-blond hair over one shoulder. The platinum color was popular among the nightclub set, but according to judicial insiders, Judge Dobson was quite the conservative. Amanda made a mental note to suggest a subtler shade before their next court appearance.
At the bench, the judge swept papers into a pile. He rapped their edges against the desk, the solid thunk sounding throughout the confined space.
“All right.” His baritone voice drew everyone’s attention.
Amanda gave Karen’s hand an encouraging squeeze and faced forward.
“Having read the custody suit and the defendant’s responses, I’d like to ask the plaintiff a few questions.” He turned to Karen.
In rapid-fire succession, Judge Dobson ran through the list Amanda had expected. Karen answered just as they’d practiced. She expressed remorse over the breakup of her marriage, insisted Mitch had denied her every attempt at being a part of their daughter’s life. Looking every inch the mother who’d been wrongfully stripped of her parental rights, she assured the court that she intended to make Brevard County her home. Bella Designs, the upscale dress shop where she worked, closed early enough that she’d be home before dinner. Her two-bedroom, furnished apartment wasn’t the Ritz, but a social worker had approved it. She was even was saving for a house, a place with a yard her daughter would enjoy.
When she finished, the judge jotted down a few quick notes, letting everyone in the courtroom take a much-needed breath. Amanda reached beneath the table and patted her client’s hand. Karen had given no indication that she was anything more or less than what she claimed to be—a woman who deserved to see her little girl, hold her in her arms and be her mommy. As long as nothing destroyed that image, their case was solid.
A glance at Mitch told her the man would try his best to undermine it. She didn’t envy him. From the way Dobson’s face hardened, her opposing counsel faced an uphill battle.
“Mr. Goodwin, your ex-wife appears to be making a new start under what must be trying circumstances. I think we can agree that, for whatever reason, she abandoned your marriage and her child. But that’s in the past.” Though Dobson’s expression never changed, his voice softened. “Let’s cut to the chase here. The plaintiff has reestablished herself in our community.” Ticking off items one by one, he held up his