"So after one day of having Joey around your office, you think you know better than me what's going on with my own brother?" Her face was flushed, and Ritchie had a good idea it wasn't from the glass of wine she'd barely touched.

It wasn't turning out at all how he'd expected. Instead of a romantic dinner and a chance to get to know Maria better – maybe help her out with some insight into the problems she was having with Joey – she seemed to take everything he said as some sort of an insult on her "parenting" skills. And she wasn't even the kid's mother.

"Maria, the last thing I want to do is criticize you."

"Really?" She picked up the wine glass and took a healthy gulp, then set it down firmly on the table. Her dark eyes flashed indignantly. "Because you sure are doing a good job of it."

"Listen. I've had some experience with kids his age."

"Have you? Well, that's nice. I live with him. I've been taking care of him myself since he was nine."

"What about your parents?" He'd assumed Maria was just helping out at home, but he was starting to realize she might be the only one involved in raising Joey.

"Dad died when I was fifteen. Our mom had it really rough after that."

"I'm sorry. What happened?"

"Massive heart attack. If there were warning signs, he never said anything. One minute he was there, and the next minute he was just...gone." She looked away from him, took another drink of her wine. When she looked back, her eyes just seemed so sad he was sorry he'd asked.

"It must have been terrible for all of you."

"I focused on my art. I graduated high school. Had a partial scholarship to Temple University in Philadelphia. The Art School there. I was so busy focusing on myself, I never noticed the changes in my brother. I let him down." There was a little crease between her eyes when she looked sad, and he had the sudden urge to kiss it away. He reached across the table and took her hand.

"Joey would have been just a little kid then. He wasn't your responsibility."

She looked up quickly, and her eyes were wet. "Joey? No, I don't mean..." She paused so long he thought she wasn't going to say anything more. Finally, she continued. "You're right, of course."

Something had closed down. Ritchie could always tell in the courtroom when a witness was holding something back, and it was no different in his personal relationships. He wondered what it was that made Maria feel so guilty for leaving her mother and her little brother and going off to college. It seemed like she was harboring serious regrets for doing something that was completely normal.

"So you went off to college," he prompted. "How did you end up back here, raising Joey?"

"My mom got cancer. She...she didn't tell me until it was pretty well advanced. Didn't want me to leave school. By the time I realized, she didn't have much time left."

"I'm so sorry. That had to be rough." He thought about his own mother, the cornerstone of their close-knit family, and couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Maria to lose both parents in such a short period. And what a devastating blow it had to have been for Joey. But for a college student to suddenly have to leave school and take on the role of de facto mom to a grieving child? It must have been overwhelming.

"And there was no one else who could step in and raise Joey?"

She looked up again, sharply this time. "Joey's my responsibility."

"That seems like too much for you to take on when you weren't even out of school yet," he said, realizing even as he spoke that it was the wrong thing to say. He admired her for taking on raising her little brother on her own. He didn't mean it as a criticism, but she seemed to take everything he said the wrong way.

Sure enough, she bristled visibly. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

He probably should just keep his mouth shut. Or change the subject. But he really did know more than most people about all the wrong decisions a kid Joey's age could make, especially growing up in a single-parent home in one of Miami's rougher neighborhoods. Like the ones surrounding St. Theresa's parish.

"All I'm saying is, I think what you're doing is really hard. A kid Joey's age needs some structure in his life, and I don't know how you can provide that and still manage to support the two of you. If he's on his own too much, he's bound to get into trouble. I've seen it happen before." He could tell from the look on her face that was exactly what she was afraid of. But apparently she wasn't about to admit it to him.

"Easy for you to say. I'm working two jobs. You think I should hire a babysitter after school? He's thirteen."

Now she was definitely angry, but in Ritchie's opinion, angry was better than sad. He didn't think he could stand to see the sad look that had come over her when she talked about losing both her parents so tragically.

"I'm not criticizing you, Maria. Trying to raise that kid and work two jobs all by yourself is just too much for one person to handle. He's going end up in trouble."

"I'm doing just fine. I don't need your help or your advice."

He was starting to get ticked off now. People who were too proud to accept help– or even a little well-intended advice – when they needed it were just plain foolish, as far as he was concerned.

"I think you could use a little help."

"I think I'd like to go home now."

She was so stiff as they walked out to the car; everything about her was tense. It made him wonder what it would be like to see her relaxed, to see her looking like she didn't carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"When's the last time you did something for yourself. Just because you knew it would make you feel better?"

"I came out on a date with you. Look how that turned out."

He had to laugh. "That bad, huh?"

"No, I love spending my whole evening arguing."

"Maybe we should try not talking for awhile," he said, angling in closer to her.

"The date's over."

"Not yet," he said and studied her as she took an instinctive step back. "Actually, it's about to get a lot better."

"I don't know what you mean," she said. Her chin pointed up defiantly, but her lower lip was trembling just slightly.

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

It was so easy to slip his arm around her narrow waist and pull her up against him. He felt her stiffen instantly.

"What do you think you're doing? If you think I have any intention of kissing you when all we've done all evening is –"

"Argue. I know. Let's try this instead," he said and pulled her closer. He was surprised how her body molded to his. He brushed his lips across hers softly once, twice, and waited until he felt her start to relax. When her arms came up around his neck and she pressed her body tighter against him, he kissed her the way those lips were meant to be kissed. He felt her go tense again for a moment and then explode with unexpected passion.

Desire slammed through him like a hot flame, and he took the kiss a lot deeper than he'd intended. He wanted her in his bed. By God, he wanted her right there on the hood of his car. His blood coursed through his veins at the thought of what it would be like to slide his hand up under that short little skirt and...It took a conscious effort to pull back, to break his contact with that hungry mouth that yielded and demanded at the same time. He realized with a start that his hand had moved from the small of her back down to her round bottom, that in a few more moments his hand would have been under her skirt. He hadn't been so desperate for the feel of a woman's bare skin since he was a hormone-crazed teenager, and he wondered what the hell had gotten into him.

Maria was leaning back against the car, her eyes half closed, her face flushed, her heart pounding. He could tell by the way she was visibly trying to catch her breath, regain her composure, and he was grateful for the few moments it gave him to get his own breathing back under control.

When she spoke, her voice was low. "I still don't like you trying to tell me how to raise my own brother, Ritchie."

He brushed his thumb over her lips, and she frowned. "And I don't like you thinking every suggestion I make means I don't admire what you're trying to do with Joey. Or that I don't understand what you're up against. Because I do – on both counts."

He paused while she stared at him, her eyes sending mixed signals of temper and desire.

"And I'm looking forward to spending a lot more time with you."

He watched as she stiffened her shoulders. He gave her props for the fact that her voice didn't waiver, since he was still feeling a bit unsteady himself. At the same time, he wished she would relax the armor she'd put around herself to ward off even the slightest hint of criticism. If she would just open up a little bit to listen to some options, he could help her get Joey into some after-school programs that would keep him off the streets and out of trouble.

Maria was having none of it, though.

"While I certainly appreciate you taking Joey into work with you this week, any sort of personal relationship between the two of us is absolutely out of the question. It's obvious we have completely different ideas about what's best for a teenaged boy, and I don't want to spend the little free time I have arguing."

Ritchie admired a woman who stuck to her guns. Even when she was wrong.

"There are more enjoyable things we can do than argue." He leaned in closer, enjoyed the way her eyes went kind of jittery and nervous. "Are you daring me to kiss you again?"

"No, I –"

"Because I think that's a great idea," he said, taking her back into his arms before she had a chance to protest.

This time he was prepared for the heat. He did not intend to lose control again, but he wanted more of her. Wanted to figure out why this feisty, loyal, and utterly fascinating woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide was affecting him like no woman ever had before. He knew the need he had for her wouldn't burn out until he had her in his bed. And if he had anything to say about it, that would be very soon.

Author's Note:

An interesting date. 

What do you think of Ritchie and Maria so far?

Music: Tina Turner - What You Get Is What You See