“You have court right now,” I say. “Focus on your client. I’ve got this. Let’s talk once I evaluate.”
“How confident are you that you can fix this?” he asks.
“Completely. The way I see it Newton did us a favor. The sooner he fucked up the better. I’m still rooted in that world with those people.”
“Right. You’re right there. We have the open house Saturday night, though. Everyone who is anyone will be there.”
“I have a private plane booked,” I say. “I’ll fly back late tomorrow night. You just go win your case, even if it costs me that bet. I’ll call you.” I hang up and refocus on Lori.
“What can I do to help?” she asks.
“There’s an open house here Saturday night. In attendance will be clients and potential clients, political figures, a few judges, as well as a clusterfuck of press and then some. You’ll need to be at the party.”
“That didn’t tell me how I can help, but that aside—do you really think you can handle what sounds like a massive problem and be back here tomorrow night?”
“If I have to go back Monday I will, but if I do, I will not be pleased. I didn’t move here, to have to be there all the damn time.”
She straightens. “That brings me back to, what do you need me to do? Tell me how to help.”
Her.
I need her.
Personally, and right now, professionally. Her readiness. Her directness. Her intelligence. “There are two stacks of files on the conference table behind you,” I say. “It’ll be easier on you if you just settle here in my office and study them. The first stack are potential cases. You’re skipping the quiz on my cases and applying what you learned to the candidates who want to become clients. Pick the top two based on your study today. The second stack of files are the people who will be here Saturday night. You’re going to need to brief me on who they are before we attend the party.”
I reach into my pocket and slide my phone across the desk, allowing her access to my phone that is not filled with random women’s numbers. “I’ll need your number, for easier access.”
She looks at me a beat, understanding flickering in her eyes. I wouldn’t hand my phone to just anyone. I want her to trust me. I’m giving her mine. “Of course,” she says softly, swallowing hard and picking up my phone, and while I have professional motives, there is a sense of intimacy between us that would not be there with someone else.
While she keys in her contact information, I pack up my briefcase and stand, rounding the desk. By the time I’m on the other side, Lori is on her feet, brushing her long brown hair from her face, and offering me back my phone. I set my briefcase on the chair and reach for the device, my fingers brushing hers as I accept it, the instant charge between us fierce enough that she sucks in air and presses her lips together. Lips that need to be on my lips and on my body.
I slide my phone into my pocket. “What else do you need me to handle?” she asks. “And what else do I need to know?”
“Cocktail attire Saturday night,” I say.
Her eyes go wide. “Right, about that. You really want me at the party? I’m an intern.”
“The idea is to turn you into the next powerhouse, and you’ll be ours and mine.”
“Not your one night stand?”
And there’s the answer to a question in my mind. Have I convinced her that she is all that has been on my mind for months now? The answer is no. I step closer. “I never wanted you to be a one night stand. I looked for you. Now I found you. The question is: are you going to be here when I get back?”
“Since discovering you’re my boss, I’ve considered my options. Reese came to me.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “And?”
“He asked me about us, in a discreet fashion, of course.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask.
“That there is nothing to tell, but he made it clear I could go to him. I could also ask for a transfer with the consortium, but I risk months of delay and they say the devil you know is the devil to know. Or that’s my version since I really don’t know you. I don’t know what devil I get if I leave here. And you were right, anyway. I’d look like the attorney who can’t handle a problem and I can.”
“Is that what I am now? A problem?”
“Trouble. I told you that. I was right when I said it, but I spent hours today studying your work. You’re a damn good attorney and I like what you and Reese stand for. You make money, a lot of money, but you don’t do it just for the money. I want to stay, and I want to work for you and learn from you.”
“To be clear, Lori. I’m damn lucky to have you on my team. I know your track record as well.”
“Then when you get back, Cole, we have to talk about limits and rules.”
Maria buzzes in. “Cole, your plane will be ready and waiting in an hour. The pilot can fly you back tomorrow night or Saturday.”
“Thank you, Maria,” I say, and the minute she disconnects I say fuck it, and do what I’ve wanted to do since the last time I saw this woman. I drag Lori to me, mold all her soft curves to every hard part of me, and close my mouth over hers. Her hand is pressed to my chest, elbow stiff, but the minute my tongue strokes hers, her elbow softens, and a soft sexy sound escapes her lips that has me ready to shove her against the desk, and pull her skirt up, and finally be inside her again. But I can’t. Not now. Not with me leaving town.
“That,” I say, tearing my mouth from hers, “was in case those ‘rules’ include no kissing, and damn, woman, you taste and feel too good not to kiss.” I brush my lips over hers again. “But if that’s what you decide, if that’s what you want, I’ll follow your rules.” I release her and grab my bag, walking toward the door before I end up kissing her again.
“Cole,” she calls out, just before I exit.
I turn back to look at her and she opens her mouth to say something but seems to change her mind. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”
I leave then, with the taste of her on my lips, and a vow that I will respect her rules, after, of course, I state my opposing opinion, and deliver my most persuasive closing statement.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lori
I watch Cole disappear through the open doorway, the feel of his hands lingering on my body, the taste of him on my lips, and oh God, he tastes good. He tastes like the answer to everything I have ever wanted wrapped in one package: a dream job, a dream man who even says that he will follow my rules. This should please me. It does please me. I meant everything I said to him. Staying is my best option, but there have to be rules. I can’t be the girl who slept her way through her mentorship, despite the fact that I am going to bust my ass, and I truly believe Cole will push me and make sure I leave this job winning.
The phone on the desk buzzes, and I snap out of my personal feelings, and hurry forward, grabbing the line. “Cole Brooks’ office, can I help you?”
“You’re not my fucking secretary,” Cole says, “and I don’t want anyone thinking you act like my secretary. You answer with your full name.”
“I don’t mind helping.”
“Do so by acting like you deserve the respect you have earned, and as far as I’m concerned, fighting for your mother and your future without quitting makes you deserve it more than most.”
He hits a nerve with those words and proves that despite my excellent ability to remain unreadable to most, he somehow sees me, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
He changes the subject. “Can you look in my right-hand drawer and see if I left a file inside?”
I reach down and open it. “You did.”
“Of course, I did. Can you scan it and email it to me?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll do it right away.”
“And so you know, it’s a personal matter, which makes this a personal favor. I don’t care if you see the contents. I’m going to trust you until you
give me a reason not to trust you. I hope you can now do the same with me because that matters personally and professionally.”
“I can,” I say. “I will. Cole, I—”
“Didn’t know me when you thought I was an asshole. I get it. But you know me now.” His line beeps. “Gotta run. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up.
I set the receiver down and open the file to find details on the winery he owns in Napa, and what looks like a massive disruption deal with a major retailer. He might not like wine, but he obviously does it as well as he does everything else. This isn’t a big secret document, but I don’t see Cole handing this to any intern or even some random woman he got naked with. And that’s his message to me. In his own words: I’m different. He’s different. I just have to hope that for now, that makes us a great legal team.
I stand up, grab my computer and connect to the printer in the office. In a few minutes, I’ve finished the scanning and returned the file to the desk. By the time I’m done, Cole has sent me his email and I quickly shoot him the document and text him an update: File in your email.
I owe you a bottle of wine that costs more than $40, he replies.
I smile in spite of myself, remembering that night with a warm flush over my skin that has me shaking off the memory, and standing up. I exit the office and head to Maria’s desk. She ends a call and looks up at me. “Yes, Cinderella?”
I frown. “Cinderella?”
“I don’t like secrets. I helped file your paperwork for the scholarship program. I know what you’ve been through, at least what’s on paper, which can’t begin to reflect the real struggle, I’m certain. Bottom line though: You’ve been through hell and this is your Cinderella story. I like it. I already like you. What can I do to help?”
“Thank you for telling me you know,” I say. “But you can help by not telling anyone else my story. I don’t want—”
“Charity,” she supplies. “I heard Reese say something like that about you to Cole. But honey, winning that scholarship isn’t about charity. It’s about being damn good and worth it. And Reese and Cole are both good men. In this shark-infested world they make this the right place to be.”
“I agree,” I say, her words validating the conclusion I came to from the time I left that stairwell with Cole and when I’d shared that with him. “I need to hire a secretary for Cole. I need to know he can undo my decision if I make a bad choice. Is there a temp service you recommend?”
“There’s one HR uses frequently,” she says. “I’ll call down and get a name.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And so you know, since I’m reviewing files for Cole, he told me to work in his office. I’ll be at his conference table.”
“I heard he’s protective of his files,” she says. “I guess it’s true.”
“Heard from who?”
“His ex-assistant,” she says. “She gave me tips to manage Cole.”
I laugh. “To manage Cole?”
“Honey, an executive assistant at this level either manages her boss or no one gets anything done.”
“Well, teach me to manage him, too, please,” I joke.
She winks. “I think you can handle him just fine.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks with yet another of her little wink moments about me and Cole, and I quickly say, “We shall see,” before I turn away, and head to my office where I gather the limited items I have that are my own.
By the time I’m walking back into the office, Maria has already found the temp service information. She hands me a name and number. “There’s a conference room off the lobby you can use for interviews or just bring them back here.”
I head back to Cole’s office and settle at the conference table, reliving that kiss, when my cell phone rings in my purse. I quickly pull it out to find Cat calling. “Hey, Cat.”
“How’s it going?”
“Is that you asking or your husband?”
“You know Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Is that all I’m getting?”
“That’s all you’re getting,” I say. “Did you hear that Cole had to go to Houston?”
“No.” she says. “He just got here. Why?”
“A problem with the current management, but he seemed confident he could handle it. He’ll be back for the party, which apparently, I need a dress for. Any chance you’d have something I could borrow?”
“Of course,” she says. “But I’ll trade you. Read my newest chapters for any dress you choose.”
“I can’t wait to read your newest chapters, so that’s a winning deal for me.”
“Saturday morning?” she asks. “Here?”
“Yes,” I say. “Perfect.”
We disconnect and I grab the number of the temp service and use the company phone to dial out. Thirty minutes later, I have three interviews lined up and I move on to the case files, and there is a thrill that shoots through me. I’m really doing this. I’m back. I’m headed toward my goals and dreams and I love this job. I start reading and I lose track of time. I only stop when I’m forced to find a bathroom and a snack machine because a pastry and coffee all day isn’t cutting it.
I’m deep in research on the third of ten potential cases, typing out notes, when Maria pops her head in the door. “You going home soon?”
I glance at the five o’clock hour and then back at her. “I’m staying unless I’m not allowed in the building after hours,” I say, considering I have those interviews tomorrow and I’m only on my analysis of case number three.
“Honey, you may sleep here during trial prep,” she says. “If you order food, just alert security.”
“Will do,” I say, and no sooner does she depart than my cell phone rings again. I glance at the caller ID to find my mother. “Hey, honey,” she says when I answer. “How has your first day been?”
“It’s been an interesting day,” I say, because how else do you describe a day when your one night stand becomes your boss, to your mother?
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” she says. “Are you going to be home before I leave for work?”
“Not tonight,” I say. “I have tons of work to do.”
“I love hearing you say that.”
My brow furrows. “Hearing what?”
“You are thinking about you and your goals again, not fretting over me. It feels good for me and you. I’m proud of you. I love you. We’ll gossip about our jobs this weekend.”
We disconnect and I breathe out. She’s okay. Everything is finally moving to a better place. “There you are.”
I look up to find Reese stepping into the office. “What’s got you huddled up in here?”
“Work,” I say. “Cole told me to use his office.”
He laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s wicked crazy about privacy about his case files. You’re okay, though?”
“I’m peachy,” I say.
He studies me a moment and then nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and then he’s gone, and I’m alone in Cole’s office. This should feel strange. I’m in the office of a man who I slept with, who I feared was the father of my unborn child, who I thought was a manwhore, and now is my boss. I should be worried about my reputation and career, but Cole didn’t even tell Reese about us, who I know to be his close friend. I do not believe that Cole would do anything to hurt me, but rather the opposite. If I did, I’d be gone.
***
It’s nearly ten when I walk into my apartment with a slice of cheap corner pizza in a bag. I stick it in the oven, strip down to a sleep shirt, and once I have my computer open on the bed, files beside it, I grab my slice and settle in. I’ve just finished it off when my cell phone rings with an unknown number.
“Hello,” I answer cautiously.
“Lori.”
At the sound of Cole’s rich, deep voice, I set my empty plate aside. “Hi,” I say. “Did you make it to Houston?”
“I just got to
my hotel room,” he says, sounding weary. “How late did you work?”
“Are you checking up on me?” I ask, feeling a bit defensive.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he says. “I trust you. Remember? I was on the internet on the plane. Reese told me. You can take your work home. You know that, right?”
I glance at the apartment, the dinginess reminding me of negativity and tears. “I liked being at the office. I liked feeling like I was back where I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to do.”
“You like feeling in control again. And the moment I took that from you the night we met was the moment I ensured you’d run.”
“I didn’t run.”
“No,” he says. “You’re right. You walked away with fierce determination. Did you ever regret it?”
Yes, I think, but what I say is, “I don’t think we should talk about this.”
“Did you regret it?” he presses again, his voice low, gruff.
“Any answer I give you to that question is the wrong answer when you’re my boss.”
“Spanking you was a mistake. It made you feel like I’d always have the control you were desperately trying to get back.”
“No” I say. “It wasn’t a mistake. Cole, you gave me the escape I wanted and God, I needed. You gave me a chance to let go, for just a little while, and somehow you made me feel safe enough to do it with you when I didn’t know you. That night was the first time in a year I did anything for myself. It was, it was…perfect.”
“Until morning. Until you left.”
“You know my situation, and that morning I was working four jobs—three part-time and one full-time—with no idea when I’d go back to school. If I had stayed, you would have thought that I found out you had money and I wanted some kind of sugar daddy. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have.”
“That’s why you left?”
“Part of the reason.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that,” he says firmly. “Not with you.”
“You say that now, but I’m not in the same place I was then.”
“I’ll tell you again when I see you and make you believe it.”
“No,” I say quickly, sitting back up. “We need to talk about this now, and then set it aside.”