she did as a detective, and the last thing he wanted was for her mind to snag on the cases she had yet to solve. Tonight he wanted her focus to be on them. “Let’s start with parents. I know you’re from Louisiana. Is that your birthplace?”
He figured if he kept her talking, he wouldn’t be tempted to get out of his seat, cross the aisle, pull her into his arms and assault her mouth. The same one he couldn’t stop looking at.
“Yes. I was born in Baton Rouge. My parents are still alive and together, although they did separate for a year when I was younger.”
He lifted a brow. “They did?”
“Yes. My father’s profession drove them apart.”
“And what’s his profession?”
“Chief of police in Baton Rouge. When they separated, he was a cop. He’d gotten shot too many times for my mother’s peace of mind.”
“You father got shot in the line of duty?”
“Yes, three times. I guess you can say the bad guys don’t care for him too much. One time nearly cost him his life. The other two were superficial wounds, so he was treated at the hospital and released. Mom gave Dad an ultimatum. Get another job—one that wouldn’t place his life in danger—or she would walk. Not sure if he believed her, but when he didn’t change professions, she left him, moved to New Orleans and took me and my three siblings with her.”
“But they did get back together.”
“Yes. Not sure who made the first move, but since Dad didn’t give up his job, I figure Mom made some major concessions. Dad would always be his own man, but he loved her and his family. Once they got back together, they never argued about what he did for a living again.”
He released his seat belt and got out of his seat. “Want something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
He nodded as he walked over to the bar to pour a cup of coffee. Columbian blend. He’d acquired a taste for the strong brew since working for Dak. The man loved the stuff. Stonewall figured he would drink coffee now and enjoy a glass of wine at dinner. “So, I take it your mother didn’t like your decision to follow your dad into law enforcement.”
“No, she didn’t, especially since my other siblings have what she considers safe jobs. My oldest brother, Vernon, is five years older than me and an attorney. My brother Orient is four years older and is a dietician at a hospital in Florida. My sister Cheer, who is two years older, is an educator in Atlanta. Everyone is married with kids but me.”
“Your name is Joy and your sister’s is Cheer?” he asked her, grinning.
“Yes. For some reason Mom thought those names were cute for us. She claims she knew my sister would bring her cheer and I would give her joy.” She chuckled. “I’m sure she began having her doubts when I decided to become a cop.”
Joy shifted in her seat, and his gaze followed the movement and saw a flash of thigh. Although he was certain it hadn’t been intentional, he couldn’t help but appreciate it. “We try to get together around the holidays. I last saw everyone at Mother’s Day.”
She paused a minute and then asked, “What about you? I know you have a grandmother and sister living here.”
“Yes, my grandmother and sister live in Charlottesville,” he said, then took a sip of coffee. He intended to tell her about himself, as well. No need to keep anything hidden. He would be the first to admit he’d made bad decisions in his life, decisions he wasn’t proud of but had definitely paid for making. He believed at thirty-four he was a better person because of those experiences, and he looked at things a lot differently than he had while in his teens and early twenties, when he thought the world owed him something and he intended to get it.
Returning to his seat, he stretched his legs out in front of him. “I was born in Charlottesville thirty-four years ago. My grandmother lives in the same house I grew up in as a kid. Nothing my sister and I said or did could get her to move. She says they don’t build houses like hers these days.”
He paused a minute to take another sip of his coffee. “Now, in a way, I’m glad she didn’t move. The area she lives in went through a revitalization and resurgence. A lot of the abandoned homes were renovated, and new small businesses opened up shop. Magnolia Oaks is now a sought-after diverse community of young professionals, artists and revelers who enjoy the numerous nightlife hot spots in the area. With roads shaded by magnolia trees, you can get to practically anywhere by either foot or bicycle. Granny Kay’s home has quadrupled in value. She loves being one of the eldest neighbors amid ‘a sea of young folk,’ as she puts it. They spoil her rotten, and she does the same for them.”
“Granny Kay?”
He smiled. “Yes. Her real name is Katherine, but to me and my sister, she’s always been Granny Kay. Her only child was my father. When my parents were killed, she became our legal guardian.”
Joy shifted in her seat again to cross her legs, and he couldn’t stop the heated sensations that stirred inside him. There was nothing indecent about the movement and he couldn’t fault her for owning such a gorgeous pair. They were legs that looked simply amazing in a pair of heels. “How were your parents killed?” she asked.
“Hurricane Andrew. We were left with Granny Kay while they vacationed with friends in Miami. They weren’t able to evacuate in time, and their hotel was demolished, killing everyone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It was hard on me and my sister. I was nine and she was five. Luckily we had our grandparents.” He sighed. “My grandfather never got over losing his only child and died of a heart attack less than a year later. Granny Kay said it was grief that killed him.”
He took another sip of his coffee when he realized that in just a short span of time, he’d shared more about himself with her than he had with any other woman.
* * *
JOY LIKED THE sound of Stonewall’s voice. From the first night they’d met she’d thought it oozed with sexiness, just like the rest of him. If he’d had any idea what seeing him sitting across from her with his legs stretched out in front of him was doing to her, he would have sat up straight. When had she allowed any man to totally capture not only her attention and interest, but also her desire?
She’d been attracted to him from the first. There was something about Stonewall Courson that kept her intrigued, mesmerized. She knew that was why she made it a point to show up every morning before the start of her workday for coffee and doughnuts at the Monroe Street Café, hoping she would run into him there. Or at Shady Reds after work, anticipating their paths crossing. Their encounters, when he was in town, lasted only five to ten minutes. Enough time to get a feel for his personality and decide he was someone she wanted to know better.
She wasn’t interested in anything serious, just a diversion from the complexities of her job. And he had definitely been that. She had enjoyed their brief encounters, the how-are-you-doing text messages she would get whenever he was traveling, and the occasional phone calls that had promised one day they would find the time for more. It was hard to believe that day had finally arrived.
What he’d just shared with her definitely went beyond small talk. After becoming fascinated with him months ago, she’d done her research, but what she’d found had covered only his later years, his arrest at the age of nineteen and his life after that. She appreciated him filling in the blanks.
“What about your name?”
He quirked a brow at her. “What about it?”
“There has to be a story behind it.”
He chuckled. “Really, there’s no story, other than Stonewall is my mom’s maiden name. She was Vivienne Stonewall. Her mother died of cancer when she was in college, and her father died a year later of the same thing. I never knew either of them, but I knew she adored them both and thought