My Greatest Mistake

by T Gephart

  I drew in a breath, absolutely horrified, before lowering my voice to a whisper. “Wow, could you be any less patriotic? I realize that I basically know nothing about you and we just met, but I didn’t take you for a communist.”

  “Where in the Constitution does it say anything about apple pie?” She raised a brow.

  “Exactly what a communist would say,” I sighed, unwedging myself from the booth. “Still, I feel like the least I can do is have this cup of coffee with you, let you eat your inferior pie before sending you back to the enemy. Be sure to tell them how humanely you were treated.” And without waiting for her to respond, I headed to the counter to place our order.

  It was only once I was there that I realized I hadn’t asked her how she took her coffee. Or if she even drank coffee at all. She hadn’t mentioned preferring tea when I’d first suggested it, so I had to assume she at least dabbled in the more caffeinated end of the pot. And as easy as it would’ve been to head back to the table and ask her, I decided to take a wild guess and see where it got me. Either way it would make things interesting, and if I totally got it wrong, I’d replace it with one of her choice.

  The woman behind the counter gave me a warm smile as I got closer. She looked tired, the dark circles under her eyes the kind earned by five kids and maybe a husband who ignored her. But she wasn’t letting the fatigue or her wedding band stop her eyes from traveling up and down my suit.

  “Hi.” I gave her a friendly—but not too friendly—smile of my own. “Can we have a slice of Apple à la mode, a slice of the Key Lime, whipped cream on the side, a latte and a brewed dark roast.”

  Molly—or at least that was the name tag on her uniform—glanced over at Zara, her eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Sure thing. I’ll bring it over for you if you like. For you and your date?”

  I don’t think she’d meant to ask it as a question, but the inflection was definitely there. Then I guess she’d seen me with Nate a bunch of times and had probably assumed we’d been a couple. Unlike me, Nate actually was gay. But as close as we were, and I’d probably do anything for him, I drew the line at sucking his dick.

  “Fiancée.” I grinned pulling out my wallet, the possibility of regretting it later not enough to stop me. “She proposed tonight. We’re very happy.”

  Molly’s mouth dropped open, either shocked I was heterosexual or engaged but did her best to recover quickly. “Wow, congratulations. You look like a great couple.”

  And I had to hand it to poor Molly, because I actually agreed with her.

  We did look like a great couple.

  “Thanks.” I turned, looking back at Zara who’d been watching on with interest. “She’s one in a million.”

  Edwin

  She was still looking at me curiously when I made my way back to the table, her eyes darting to Molly with unanswered questions.

  “Relax, I ordered your inferior pie with cream on the side,” I assured her, easing back into the booth.

  Her smile twitched at the edges. “And what coffee did you get since you didn’t ask?”

  “Latte.”

  Her eyes widened, seeming to be surprised. “How did you know that was what I wanted?”

  “Oh, it was a total guess.” I laughed, happier than I should be that I’d gotten it right. “I just tried to imagine what I wouldn’t drink, and there you have it.”

  “You have something against lattes as well?”

  I cleared my throat. “Not as an entity, no. All coffees should be loved equally without persecution. But I’m particular about what I put in my mouth. And a latte isn’t it.”

  “Let me guess,” she rolled her eyes, “black. No sweetener.”

  “Wow, we really are soulmates.” I chuckled.

  Her eyes widened, my flippant use of the word seeming to catch her off guard. And even though it had been a joke, there was no denying something was definitely happening between us.

  It was weird that even though we’d just met, everything felt so comfortable. And not in a stale we’ve-been-dating-for-three-years kind of way, but where it just felt like I could be myself. I wanted to impress her, but I didn’t feel like I had to try, the ease of the conversation between us, surprising.

  “So, Zara.” I rubbed my hands together, wanting to know more. “Since we’ve established we’re obviously meant to be together, why don’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself. Hopes. Dreams. The ten-year plan I bet you have drawn out in a notepad somewhere.”

  The last part was a guess, but I had a hunch I wasn’t too far off the mark.

  She was beautiful. Her face and body, lethal weapons that could bring any man to his knees. But there was something else about her, a smoldering sense of assurance that was sexy as hell. Just thinking about her in a courtroom was turning me on, and I couldn’t help but wonder what other rooms she liked to dominate.

  Her brow arched while her widening grin told me how right I’d been. “You already know I’m a lawyer.” I nodded my head, waiting for her to continue. “I’m a senior associate at Bally and Cobb. We do family and corporate, but specialize in criminal law. And,” she paused as she rolled her bottom lip with her teeth, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but the ultimate goal is a judicial appointment.”

  “Ahhhhhhh. The gavel.” I chuckled, tilting my head to where it was sitting on the table not far from her hand. “Well, that makes a lot more sense. Here I was thinking you were just some regular freak show, when really I was being hit on by a future Justice.” I folded my arms across my chest, not needing to manufacture my interest. “Supreme Court?”

  She hit me with the full weight of those beautiful brown eyes. “Wouldn’t settle for anything less. And, I was not hitting on you. In fact, if that is what you think flirting is, then you seriously need to get out more.”

  “Oh, I know what flirting looks like, Zara.” I laughed. “And unlike some guys, I don’t need the road map. For that . . . or anything else.”

  So maybe I was flirting too, and maybe I really enjoyed it. Maybe I liked the way excitement lit up her eyes, warming those beautiful brown irises to the color of dark melted chocolate. Or maybe it was the subtle lifting of those stunning pouty lips, the way she fought her grin, not giving me a proper smile unless it was well earned. I liked that I had to work at it, that she wasn’t just some girl I could flash my usual charm for and have her number in my pocket while her hand was already undoing my pants.

  Her chin dropped, meeting my gaze without even a hint of embarrassment. “Now who’s flirting.”

  I nodded not even trying to deny it. “And if that surprises you, then it’s not me who needs to get out more.”

  “Here you go.” Molly placed two cups on the table, interrupting the moment. “I’ll just go grab your pie.” She smiled, giving Zara her full attention. “And by the way, congratulations.”

  Zara’s brows knitted, her confusion obvious. “Thanks,” she responded cautiously, like she wasn’t sure if she should be thankful, Molly giving her a curt nod before disappearing to get the pie.

  “What was that?” Zara asked, keeping her voice low.

  I shrugged, enjoying myself a little too much. “I might’ve mentioned your proposal.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Semantics. We both know given half a chance, you will.” I grinned. “Anyway, she usually sees me in here with Nate so assumed I was gay. I figured I’d give her some juicy gossip to liven up her night. See, you don’t know me, Zara, but I’m very much a giver.”

  Zara looked back over her shoulder at Molly before turning back to me. “Who’s Nate and why would she assume you were gay? Wait. . . are you gay? Your boyfriend isn’t going to come storming in all jealous, is he?”

  “Wow, you accepted the date without being sure I was single? Tsk, tsk, sweetheart. I never took you as a homewrecker.” I mock gasped, pretending to be shocked. “But if you must know, Nate is one of my best friends and an ER attending at Sinai. He is gay, and good-looking so I understand
how she made the mistake. Handsome and a doctor, there’s a combo that’s hard to resist.” I leaned in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “But I’m not into dudes. Not even a little.”

  “Is that why you were there?” she asked, at that moment realizing that while I knew her reason for being at the hospital, she had no idea of mine. “Seeing Nate?”

  I nodded, watching as Molly returned with two plates of pie.

  “Here you go.” Molly slid the plates onto the table before pulling out napkins and silverware from the front pocket of her apron. “If you need anything else, just come up to the counter.”

  She hesitated a little, giving us both a once-over before heading back to the front of the store.

  “Nate.” Zara’s hand reached out, stopping me from grabbing my spoon.

  My eyes dropped down to where her fingers were lingering, the touch barely there, but very pleasing. “See, you hear he’s a good-looking doctor and suddenly you’re interested. Did you miss the part where I said he was gay?”

  “You know, considering you asked me out, you haven’t been very forthcoming with information. You know my name, my sister, my job, where I work and my aspirations. And you’ve given me nothing. So spill, because I’m not saying another word until you give me something too.”

  I wasn’t denying that I was asking more questions than giving her answers, but honestly, who could blame me. I wanted to know everything there was about her, so talking about myself wasn’t a priority. But I didn’t want her to think I had something to hide, or was deliberately being cagey. Which is why I decided to go the expedited route, and give her the whole grand tour.

  “Fine, let’s see. I’m the middle child of three kids, a brother and sister—in that order—and my parents are still married living in upstate New York.” I took a breath before continuing, “Nate and I met in medical school at Columbia, we were roommates.”

  “You’re a doctor?” Her eyes widened, interjecting before I could continue.

  I sighed heavily, shaking my head. “How disappointed are you going to be when I tell you no? I transferred out my first year, decided it wasn’t for me. Besides,” I held up one of my hands, “these babies were destined for more important things than being in someone’s abdomen removing a spleen.”

  Her fingers trailed down my arm where it had been resting on the other hand still on the table. She took it into hers, turning it over to inspect it. “Hmmm, no callouses so no manual labor. Let me guess, hand model.” She strummed my palm seductively. “They are really nice hands.”

  I didn’t even care if she was joking, loving the contact and the sultry tone of her voice. “You mock me,” I coughed out, pretending to be offended. Warmth traveling up my arm and across my chest as I stared into her eyes. “But you are wrong again. You want to keep going? Or should I just give you the plot twist right now?”

  She leaned closer, keeping her hands on me. “Tell me. I want to know it all.”

  Jesus she was hot.

  And while I had no doubt the exaggerated interest was part of a game we were playing, I had zero interest in making it stop. “Lawyer. Corporate law. Mergers, acquisitions, takeovers—I’m the asshole they call when they need a company dismembered with its head on a platter.”

  It was far from a noble pursuit, with my firm’s biggest motivator being billable hours. Her hands lifted, my skin tingling from the ghosted contact. And I could see from the change of her expression, her opinion of me had taken a nosedive. “Ahhhhhh, so judgmental.” I shook my head, expecting her response.

  After all, she wanted to ascend to the Supreme Court, fight for good, equality, and the protection of the Constitution. And there I was, using Lady Justice to scale and gut corporations like it was open season.

  “Go on, tell me how much more honorable I could be. If I used my power for good instead of evil. I assure you, there isn’t an argument I haven’t heard. My dad and mom are still wondering what happened to their ‘dear sweet boy.’ But the difference between me and all the other assholes, is I give a shit what happens to the workers. The people who don’t have a choice. I make sure their pensions are taken care of. Their entitlements are honored. And yeah, if some CEO who’s been holidaying in the Caymans, switching out his Benz for the newest model every year, ends up in a cardboard box under a bridge, then that’s the kind of collateral damage I can live with.”

  She blinked, either not expecting the fully-loaded response or looking for a way to make a hasty exit. “You’re a lawyer too.”

  “Indeed.” I nodded.

  “And yet, you let me explain how a subpoena is served?” Her brow arched, proving there was nothing wrong with her memory from earlier when we’d met.

  “I was trying to work out what would be the bigger dick move. Cut you off and be all ‘I know,’ or play dumb and get a refresher. I can live with you calling me a jerk rather than have you believe I was trying to mansplain shit I’m positive you know more about than me.”

  And she’d been adorable. But I left that part out because while I could handle “jerk,” “sexist jerk” wasn’t happening.

  “Hold up a minute.” I recentered my thoughts, my brain still having some neurons firing even though most of the blood had been flowing southward. “Why are we talking about subpoenas, aren’t you going to rail me for using the law for death and destruction?”

  Her shoulder lifted in a shrug, glancing down at our cooling coffees and uneaten pies. “Someone has to do it, right? Might as well be you. It’s not like you eat the souls of children.”

  “Well . . .” I trailed off, rubbing the center of my chest, “I am trying to cut down. Children’s souls give me wicked heartburn.”

  She laughed, the sound of it crackling in the air as she threw her head back. “So why did you leave medical school?”

  It was what most people wanted to know whenever they found out my original career path. “My dad is a doctor—GP—and my mom, a physician’s assistant. So I guess it was sort of expected. Out of the three of us, I was the only one that really showed an interest in the “family business.” Joe, my brother, likes to work with his hands. He makes handmade furniture. And my younger sister, Maddy, is a makeup artist. She does the pretty stuff, but her real passion is special effects, movie makeup. She’s over on the west coast. Anyway, I thought it was what I wanted to do,” I explained, remembering how I’d planned out college, then medical school, assuming I’d stay in New York for my residency. “But when it got down to it, there was no passion. I was going through the motions, making the grades, doing the assignments but there was no spark. And since it’s the kind of job you really can’t half-ass, I decided to go find something else that would light a fire under my ass.”

  “Law.” The smile both on her face and in her voice told me she felt the same way I did about it. And even though we might be on different ends of the spectrum, excitement for the law was something you couldn’t fake.

  I nodded, picking up my coffee and taking the first sip. “Yeah. Finished my law degree at Columbia and then moved to Boston. Have been with Locke and Collins since I graduated.”

  She was about to start on her own coffee when she stopped suddenly and lowered the cup. “Boston? You live in Boston?”

  “Yeah, I’m here on assignment. A week or two, and then I head back.”

  Her smile dropped, the latte forgotten as disappointment clouded her eyes. “I just assumed.” She stopped, shaking her head like she was discounting the thought. “Well, I guess it makes sense.”

  “Make sense?” I asked, wondering what she was talking about. I hadn’t suddenly developed a Bostonian accent despite having lived there for a few years. And as far as I knew, I still looked like a New York native.

  “This is so crazy,” she whispered under her breath before looking at me. “But I was hoping.” She swallowed. “I was really looking forward to getting to know you.”

  It sounded so final, like whatever this was, was already over before things even started.


  “You wanted to get to know me?” I reached across and ran my fingers over her knuckles. “Get to know me how, Zara?”

  Her eyes heated, telling me that for all the honorable thoughts she had, she had plenty of naughty ones too. “Are you staying in a hotel or with Nate?”

  “Hotel.” I tamped down the significance of the question, assuming nothing and hoping for everything.

  It had been a while since I’d had a one-night stand and none of them had started like that. But given the choice between one night or nothing with her, I knew exactly what my choice was. Even though I could already tell, one night would not be enough.

  “We should finish our pie and coffee,” she said suddenly, her tongue lightly darting across her bottom lip.

  “And then what?” I asked, because Jesus, I really wanted to know. “You want me to give you a ride home?” I leaned across the table, wanting nothing more than to just kiss her one time. “I can call my car service, take you anywhere you want to go.”

  Please don’t say home.

  Please do not say you want to go home.

  She didn’t answer, the mental to-and-fro taking place in front of me as she weighed her options.

  Everything about her screamed she wasn’t the kind of woman who had random hook-ups, but there was an undeniable spark between us that couldn’t be ignored.

  “You could still get to know me, Zara,” I whispered, my lips dying to get on hers. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Either here or . . . at my hotel.”

  I was giving her the choice, because as far as I was concerned, my mind was already made up.

  I wanted her.

  Wanted to take her back to my suite and kiss her slowly.

  We didn’t even have to have sex, the chance to touch her and spend the night with her worth any discomfort from the perpetual hard-on I knew it would cause.

  “Your hotel.”

  My muscles tightened, the heat pooling in my balls as my pants got tighter in the crotch. I knew it meant nothing, that we could get there, and she could change her mind. Or she might not even let me touch her at all. But she was giving me a chance, and since the whole thing had started on circumstance, I wasn’t leaving anything on the table.