by Kelly, Hazel
I sigh and fold my arms. “If this is how you’re going to behave, I’m out of here.”
“I apologize,” he says, not seeming at all sincere. “I just—every time I look at you—”
I cock my head. “What?”
“Everything about you makes me want sex.”
“I’m flattered, but—”
“And not just sex with anyone,” he says. “Sex with you.”
My pulse quickens. “Well, unfortunately, our circumstances have changed.”
“How? As far as I’m concerned, the only thing that’s changed is that I’ve seen your face.”
“And?” I ask, instantly ashamed of myself for caring.
“I think you’re fucking stunning.”
I cast my eyes down at the table.
“And the fact that you’re a lawyer only turns me on more.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I say. “There’s nothing sexy about being a lawyer.”
“I have to disagree,” he says. “What’s not to like about a woman who’s willing to work for what she wants, can handle pressure, and knows how to argue her corner?”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe you have a point, but I didn’t come here to discuss the merits of being a lawyer.”
“I know,” he says. “But let’s make a deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“If we’re going to work together, we have to get some polite formalities out of the way in order to balance out what we already know about each other.”
“I’m not following.”
He turns his palms to the ceiling. “I propose we make this our meet-and-greet lunch, and then afterwards, we can get down to business.”
I consider his suggestion. “Assuming that wasn’t an innuendo, I agree.”
“Great,” he says, adding sugar to his iced tea as soon as it’s delivered. “What do you want to know about me?”
“I want to know why you go to those parties.”
“Besides the obvious?” he asks, stirring his drink.
I nod.
“I thought you might start with where I grew up and where I went to school?”
“I want answers I can’t find on the internet.”
His mouth twitches. “Did you Google me?”
“Can you blame me?”
“No,” he says. “I did the same.”
A flutter lifts in my stomach as I try to determine what he already knows about me, but I doubt it’s much—probably just my work history and the fact that I attended law school at Brown. Meanwhile, I know his great grandfather founded the firm he works at and that he went to Yale on a scholarship where, coincidentally, his great-grandfather just happens to have built a library. “Well?” I ask, crossing my legs.
“I go because they’re fun and because I have needs but no time to date.”
“Right.”
“I presume that’s why you go,” he says.
“I wouldn’t say I go,” I say. “I only went twice because I didn’t want my friend to attend unchaperoned.”
“How noble of you.”
“I thought so.”
“So sleeping with me was just a way to kill time?”
The back of my neck grows hot in response to the intensity of his stare. “No—I… I wasn’t going to hook up with anyone.”
“I’m flattered,” he says. “And the second time? When you sought me out?”
I shrug. “I had fun before, so…”
“The night I met you was supposed to be my last time.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I’ve been to a dozen or so, but the last few times no one caught my attention.”
“I don’t get it. You seem like the kind of guy that could get a regular date pretty easily.”
“Thanks,” he says. “But like I said, I don’t have time. I like sex and everything, but women are more trouble than they’re worth. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Plus, most of the women I’ve dated in the past don’t understand how demanding my job is, and it’s too much hassle to pretend I can put someone else first when I’m busy looking out for number one.”
“Of course,” I say, feeling something wilt inside me.
Our food comes a few minutes later, and I don’t admit it, but he was right about the salmon. It’s melt-in-the-mouth good, as is the apple crumble bar, which he lets me have most of. Best of all, there are zero moments of awkward silence during the meal—just as there are zero comments about the case—but I’m relieved to learn something about him other than how he looks naked.
Besides, he’s funny, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. The only thing that keeps me from laughing too hard is how hot he is, and despite what I said, I am intimidated by it, by him, by the fact that I feel overexposed without my feathery mask.
When it comes time to pay the bill, I realize I’ve completely lost track of time, and he doesn’t even acknowledge me when I suggest we go Dutch. He just pays it—tip and all—waving away my thanks like a real gentleman.
“If it wasn’t completely unprofessional to say so,” he says when we hit the sidewalk, “I’d tell you I really enjoyed your company over lunch.”
I smile.
“Might even ask if I could take you out again.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He just fixes his eyes on me for a moment and then raises his hand to flag a cab.
As he walks away, I consider reminding him that next time we’ll focus on work, but I bite the inside of my cheek instead because part of me wants to feel like it was a regular date. But when he gets in and drives away, my heart sinks with the knowledge that it wasn’t a date at all. If anything, it was probably more like a funeral, just the fizzling out of all the hot stuff we shared at that mansion in the hills.
I’m about to cross the street and head back to my office when his cab pulls back in along the sidewalk.
I stand there blinking like an idiot as he gets out and jogs towards me. I look down to see if I’ve accidentally picked up something he could’ve forgotten, but all I have is my purse.
When I look up again, he kisses me on the mouth so hard I feel light shoot out my fingertips, and he pulls my lower back against him, bending me just enough that one of my feet lifts off the ground.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes hats pop off in cartoons, and he ravishes my mouth like he’s just returned from war. When he finally releases me, my lips are tingling and my knees are weak.
I try to say something through my stunned, parted lips, but he only looks at me for a second before hurrying back to his cab, leaving me so confused I don’t know which way is up.
All I know is that business and pleasure have never felt so mixed.
S E V E N
I bolt upright when I hear the knocking. It’s only then that I realize I’ve fallen asleep in my work clothes with all the lights on.
I rub my eyes as I head to the door.
Ruby raises a bottle of wine when I open it. “Surprise!”
“Yes, it is,” I say, smoothing my hair down. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might keep me company while I pregame for the speed dating party you refused to come to tonight?”
“Oh boy.” I step backwards and pull the door open. “You certainly look like you’re about to do some speed dating.”
“Too slutty?” she asks, looking down.
“Nearly,” I say. “But it’s probably best if you don’t blend in at a thing like that.”
“Good answer,” she says, pointing at me and charging into the kitchen.
I pull my suit jacket off and drape it over one of my kitchen chairs before untucking my shirt. “Why are you going to this thing again?”
“Because it’s on my list of things to try. Plus, I deleted Tinder again.”
“I don’t know why you bother.”
She pulls two wine glasses from my kitchen cabinet. “Just to prove to myself that I can.”
&nb
sp; “Right.”
“And because my last date was horrendous.”
“Remind me?” I ask, taking out my earrings.
“He talked about banging chicks all night?”
“Oh, right.”
“And then didn’t even bang me.”
I scrunch my face. “Ouch.”
She nods and unscrews the cap on her favorite cabernet. “To be honest, it makes me understand why those sex parties are so addictive.”
I hook my earrings together and set them on the counter.
“There’s none of that awful pressure of having to decide whether someone is a despicable person or not before you sleep with them.”
I laugh. “I suppose you have a point.”
She pours two glasses of wine. “I know. I’ve thought a lot about this.”
“Maybe you should request that all your dates wear masks from now on.”
“Maybe I should,” she says. “Until it comes time to look for something serious, at least, in which case I wouldn’t want to risk ending up with an eyesore.”
I roll my eyes. “I was joking. Surely masquerade is intended to be a theme, not a lifestyle.”
“Our loss,” she says.
“Speaking of loss, did you get my message?”
She stops gulping her wine. “Oh my god, yeah. About your mystery man being the opposing council? Small world, eh?”
“We had lunch today.”
Her eyes grow wide.
“And then he kissed me in the street.”
She furrows her brow. “I thought he was anti kissing?”
“Me too.”
“How was it?” she asks.
I glance down at the counter.
“Oh shit, you like him!”
“There’s nothing not to like,” I say, twisting the stem of my glass. “He’s gorgeous, great in bed, has a fantastic career…”
“I hear a but coming on.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m listening,” she says, leaning a hip against the counter.
“Well, obviously nothing can come of it. The whole thing is a mess.”
“Sounds like you’re already in a relationship.”
I glare at her. “Definitely not. Besides, he must be a despicable person if he can defend the guy he’s working for.”
“It’s probably just a job.”
“Maybe, but I don’t see how you could have a conscious and try to screw over a bunch of sick people.”
“Are you really going to hold that against him?”
I shrug. “Don’t I have to? It’s the only thing I have to hold against him.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” she asks.
“You can look him up. His name is Owen Morgan.”
She pulls her phone out of her tiny purse.
“He works for Wayne Morgan. Try LinkedIn.”
She blinks at her screen so slowly I’m surprised her coated eyelashes don’t stick together. “Fuck me.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think someone could be that good-looking.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Now you see what I’m up against.”
“Now I see what I want to be up against.”
I cock my head. “Very funny.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Well, if I were going to back out of the case, I would’ve had to do it already.”
“Back out?”
“You know, tell my boss I can’t take the case because the defense has licked my asshole.”
Her mouth falls open. “He licked your asshole?”
I cover my face with my hands.
“You dirty minx! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I know,” I say into my hands. “I’m a total skank.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“Too much.”
“Wow, Cassie. I’m impressed,” she says. “Even I haven’t checked that off my list yet, and it’s pretty near the top.”
I drop my hands. “Helpful.”
“Sorry.” She attempts a more serious expression. “What I mean to say is, I totally understand why you haven’t—and absolutely can’t—tell your boss.”
“No shit. Plus, there could be a big promotion in it for me if I win the case.”
She squints. “But you have to screw Owen to do it?”
“Jesus, Ruby.”
She raises her palms. “I swear the pun was an accident.”
I groan. “I don’t have to screw him, but he definitely has to lose—and lose big. Bigger than he’s willing to without a fight, I’m sure.”
“And there’s no way you can put the sexual tension to the side for the minute? Just while the case is going on?”
“I tried. But then he kissed me in the street, and I couldn’t remember my name much less whether we were supposed to be friends or foes.”
“This is so exciting,” she says, topping up her glass.
“Maybe for you.”
“And for you,” she says. “I can’t remember the last time a guy made you blush, much less got away with PDA.”
“Me neither, but the timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Maybe it could work to your advantage.”
“How?” I ask.
“Well, if he’s all that smitten with you, surely that gives you the upper hand.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it,” she says, leaning across the counter. “Even the smartest guys on Earth think with their dicks from time to time.”
“Agreed.”
“If he thinks winning the case will ruin his chances with you, he might be more likely to go soft.”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“On his terms…not in his pants.”
“I get it.”
“What do you think?”
“That’s just a different kind of sexual game,” I say. “And not only do I think it won’t work, but I’m not stooping to that level.”
“Suit yourself,” she says. “I only mentioned it because it sounds like you’re going to have to choose between this promotion and this guy.”
I lean back in my chair and take a swig of wine. I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider whether I could possibly have both, whether I wanted both.
“You know as well as I do that men don’t like to lose. Furthermore, 99.9% of them aren’t secure enough to keep pursuing a woman who’s outwitted them.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I guess we’ll know when this is over, won’t we?”
I top up my glass. “Are you suggesting I either throw the case to save what little dead-end relationship I might have with this guy or use sex to win it and never look back?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” she says. “I’m merely helping you list your options.”
“Right,” I say. “And you don’t think winning the case like a professional and still getting to keep the interest of the hottest guy I’ve ever met is one of my options?”
“Stranger things have happened, but that outcome sounds pretty far-fetched to me.”
My shoulders droop. “Why can’t a girl have it all in this day and age? Why does life have to be so fucking unfair?”
“Because, honey, it was designed by a man.”
“You don’t know that,” I say. “God could be a woman.”
“Yeah right,” she says. “If God were a woman, teachers would get paid more and golf wouldn’t be televised.”
“What do you have against golf?”
“It’s too much like dating,” she says. “It’s expensive, time consuming, and most of the people playing don’t even have the right equipment.”
“I wouldn’t mention that theory at speed dating tonight.”
“Noted,” she says. “Anyway, seems to me you’ll know exactly what to do as soon as you figure out what your priorities are.”
“Thanks for that useless tip.”
“What
ever happens,” she says. “Just remember there are more fish in the sea.”
“And that’s supposed to help me how?”
“Because it will help you keep from getting too flustered around this hunk of steaming man flesh, regardless of what you decide to do.”
“Right,” I say, reaching for the wine. “So glad you stopped by.”
E I G H T
After much deliberation, I decide I’m not going to think with my pussy.
Or my head.
Or about either of his heads.
I’m going to follow my heart, and my heart is telling me that the most important people in this case aren’t Owen and me. They’re the two dozen families who are suffering because their breadwinner’s health and safety has been neglected by their employer.
Whenever I have doubts about how tough my terms are, I look at the family photos Rebecca has collected, at the faces of the children who are too young to understand the injustice that’s been done to their mother or father. That’s what’s going to drive my decisions, decisions that will allow me to sleep at night for a long time to come.
And I don’t give a fuck whether Owen likes it or not, whether it shatters his perception of me, whether he decides he doesn’t like me all that much after all. Because I like me, and the only way I’m going to keep liking me is if I do the right thing and fight for these people.
When the elevator doors open, I realize I’ve gotten myself all worked up, and I didn’t even need my starfish power pose. I follow the slick glass plaques towards Owen’s office, nearly scoffing aloud when I realize his secretary is all legs.
She inquires over the phone whether he’s ready to see me and then lets me in his corner office.
It’s stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame him as we step inside, and there’s a bright purple orchid on the edge of his desk.
“Cancel my two o’clock, Andrea,” he says without looking up from his desk.
“Right away,” she says, nodding as she backs out of the room.
For a moment, he ignores me, banging out the rest of his email or whatever he’s working on. When he finishes, he closes his laptop and slides it in one of his desk drawers. “Sorry about that, Cassie. I just wanted to make sure I could give you my full attention.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, walking over to the chair across from him and deciding I won’t make a fuss over his amazing office. After all, professionalism is the name of the game. “Where are all your papers?” I ask, taking a seat and leaning my briefcase against the leg of my chair.
