Her Favorite Holiday Gift

by Lynda Sandoval

  She raised a hand to signal him when he entered the restaurant. He responded with a terse nod and headed her way, his steps strong and measured. Heavy.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” Colleen said after he sat across from her in the same back booth she and Eric had occupied less than two weeks earlier.

  “Sure,” he said brusquely, slipping the wool scarf from his neck and shrugging out of his overcoat. “I don’t have a lot of time—”

  “Of course. If we can just order coffee.”

  Harrison Scott crossed his arms on the edge of the table. “That’s fine.”

  Colleen gestured to their waitress, set the menus aside, then dove in. Really, was there any easier way? “I need to bring this issue to someone at the firm, but I don’t want to cause an uproar if it’s not necessary. I’d like another opinion, though.”

  “Okay. So here I am. Lay it on me,” Harrison said, checking his watch as if she wouldn’t notice the insulting gesture. As if meeting with his own colleague was an annoying time suck he couldn’t fit in to his oh-so-important schedule.

  The waitress scooped up their menus and clunked a thick mug of coffee before each of them. “Anything else, folks?”

  “No,” Colleen said. “Thanks.”

  Steam and tension swirled into the air between her and Harrison Scott. She cleared her throat, glanced around at the occupants of the nearby tables, then spoke in a lowered tone. The place burst with lawyers. One never knew who might overhear. “It’s about the Ned Jones case.”

  “I figured. It’s the only big case you have.”

  Ouch. She ignored that. She worked a more than full caseload, not that she received credit for it. “We could have a nightmare on our hands.”

  Harrison, prematurely gray but young in the face, frowned with concern. “Can you elaborate?”

  Rather than explain the entire fiasco, Colleen extracted a mini-digital recorder from her handbag and slid it toward him. When he didn’t move, she pushed the play button herself and had the questionable “joy” of reliving whiny Ned Jones laying bare the tangled web of deceit into which he’d pulled her and the entire firm. His confession of the deal he’d struck with Thatcher: to accuse and discredit Robby Axelrod and Taka-Hanson, all for a payoff and a job with Thatcher’s company. She’d recorded Ned’s admission that the whole case was a lie, a setup.

  When the interview ended, both she and Harrison remained quiet amidst the bustle and chatter around them.

  Harrison didn’t move.

  Colleen watched him.

  Finally, she reached over and palmed the recorder. She slipped it back in her bag, then tossed her hair and raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that elaboration enough?”

  “Yes. But what’s the problem?” Harrison asked.

  Her hands went tingly as she realized Harrison Scott was not on her side. “What do you mean, what’s the problem? It’s all a lie. The case is based on lies.”

  Harrison half-laughed, shaking his head. “Colleen. You’ve been a lawyer long enough to know that doesn’t matter.”

  “But—”

  He widened his eyes, a belligerent expression on his face. “No buts. Do you have enough circumstantial evidence to plant doubt in a jury’s collective, and might I add, simple mind?”

  Wow, she hadn’t realized how jaded Harrison Scott had become. He was a different man from the one she’d known before he’d leapfrogged her into a partner position. “Well, I think so, but—”

  “Then—” he spread his arms “—win the damn case. What’s the issue?”

  Frozen, she blinked at him. Harrison wasn’t the confidant she hoped he’d be. He wasn’t anything she hoped he’d be. Why did that constantly surprise her with the guys in her office?

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Does it bother you at all, Harrison, that we may well destroy a man’s career when he doesn’t deserve it? That Taka-Hanson will be paying a massive price for a trumped-up charge?”

  His facial expression didn’t change.

  “Okay,” Colleen said, on an exhalation. “I’ll take that as a no.” The waitress approached with the carafe for refills, but Colleen held up a palm to ward her off. She couldn’t stomach another drop and didn’t really care, at this point, if Harrison wanted a warmer.

  Once the waitress retreated, Harrison leaned in. “Listen carefully. You don’t work for Taka-Hanson.”

  “I’m well aware of that, thank you.” Ice crackled off her words.

  “Then let me give you a bit of friendly advice if you ever plan on making partner at this firm. Win. Whatever case is handed to you, win the damn thing. Pure and simple, that’s what they want. That’s what I want. That’s what you should want. Any attorney worth his weight can grasp that simple concept.”

  Worth his weight. She held steady even though the pointed sexist barb stung. They came so frequently, she’d learned to deflect them as much as possible, but she’d been feeling raw lately, and this one pierced her shield. Or maybe she’d dropped her shield altogether.

  Who knew anymore?

  The only thing she knew was that she’d made a grave misstep talking about the case to Harrison or any of the partners. She had no doubt Harrison would scurry back to the firm and inform everyone else about their little meeting. Even if she won this case now, her job might be in jeopardy. Beneath the table, she gripped her thighs with her hands until her fingernails stung the skin beneath the wool fabric.

  She’d never felt so alone in her life.

  Wrong versus right? Truth versus lies? Unclear.

  Eric Nelson was a man and an excellent attorney, yet his goal wasn’t to win regardless of the facts of any given case. His goal was justice.

  Did that make him wrong?

  Or had she been wrong all along, and Eric was right?

  Carefully controlling her tone, she said, “I’m not saying I don’t want to win the case, Harrison, or that I won’t, but—”

  “I said, no buts,” Harrison said. He flicked a glance at his watch again, then impaled her with a flinty stare. “Let me put it to you this way. Win the Jones case, or your career with the firm is over.” He stood.

  Everything inside her tilted on its axis and her skin flashed over with raging heat. She swallowed past a throb that had begun in the side of her neck. “Is that a threat?” she asked, softly.

  “I’m the junior partner,” he said, with a scoff, as he stuffed his arms into his overcoat. “I don’t have the ability to threaten.”

  “And yet, you said the words.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze as he knotted the plaid scarf. “It’s just what I’ve heard around the office.”

  Her body went from hot to flash frozen in an instant. “They’re testing me? Did they know Ned Jones was full of crap when they begrudgingly handed me the case?”

  “You’re still not getting it.” Harrison braced his hands on the edge of the table and leaned in. “It doesn’t matter whether they are or not, whether they knew or not, if you win the damn case, does it? You wanted another opinion? I’d suggest you stop fretting and focus on that.” He chucked a five-dollar bill on the table to cover his coffee, nodded to her once, and left.

  Colleen couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her entire law career seemed to zip before her eyes on fast-forward.

  Fretting.

  Would he have accused a male attorney of fretting?

  When the bell over the door jangled Harrison’s exit, Colleen released a whoosh of air. The restaurant had filled up, but the cacophony of voices melted into one, unintelligible buzz in her brain. She rested her forehead in her fingertips, elbows braced on the table edge.

  Things had gone horribly wrong.

  Once upon a time, she knew right from wrong, believed in those simple concepts. But she’d lost touch with them along the way.

  How had that happened? When had it happened?

  And why?

  Long ago, she may have thought winning all her cases fell under the category heading of righ
t, but with the Jones situation? She wasn’t so sure. Harrison had been correct about one thing. If she didn’t win, her career at the firm was over. What she couldn’t figure out was whether or not that was such a bad thing.

  Or was a reconnection and one night of great sex with Eric once again distorting her grand plan, an eerie repeat of law school? She didn’t even know how Eric felt about her, really. He wanted to win the case, too…

  Plus, she had her mortgage, her mother, her mental state. She had to think of herself, and that meant keeping her job, even if she despised it.

  Right?

  Robby Axelrod, the beleaguered Taka-Hanson employee who was nothing but a pawn in their game, popped into her mind and brought along a poison dart of guilt. Did he have a mortgage? A family? Children? What was his mental state at this point? Was she being selfish thinking only of herself?

  Confusion, indecision and the overwhelming aroma of frying bacon nearly suffocated her. All she could think of was escape. She scrambled to her feet and dug through her purse for some cash for the coffee.

  Her life felt perilously out of control, distended, on the verge of bursting. Something had to give. She’d tried talking to Harrison. Failure.

  She had no other choice now but to talk to Eric.

  Before she took that critical step, however, she needed some sort of a plan.

  Eric was deeply immersed in preparatory work for the upcoming Jones versus Taka-Hanson hearing when his secretary, Jennifer, did her signature tap-tap, tap-tap on the door.

  He glanced at the darkness beyond his windows, then frowned up at the clock on the front of one of the antique scales he collected and displayed in specially built shelves along one wall of his office. They reminded him of what he valued in life: balance.

  Speaking of balance, shouldn’t Jennifer have gone home by now? It was late. He might be a little into the workaholic mode at the moment, but that didn’t mean his employees needed to follow suit. “Come in.”

  Jennifer peeped her head around the cherrywood door. “Someone here to see you if you’re not busy.”

  He stifled a sigh. He’d never taken his frustration out on any of his secretaries and he didn’t plan to start now, with the best of the bunch. “I am busy. Who is it?”

  “Colleen Delaney.”

  Desire bloomed inside him. Along with surprise. And the effervescence of joy. He blinked. “Colleen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here?”

  Jennifer made an effort to hide a smile. “Yep.”

  “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…Never mind. Send her in, thanks. And, hey. Jen, you don’t have to work late just because I am.”

  “I know. I just wanted to be here in case you needed anything,” she said. “I don’t mind. It’s a big case.”

  Note to self: give Jen a whopping bonus or put her in for a raise in the near future. She was a dream secretary, and he didn’t want to lose her. For now, he settled on a smile. “I appreciate the team play, but put in for overtime, then feel free to head out.”

  “You sure? I could brew you a pot of coffee before I leave if you’re going to be a while.”

  “Thank you, but I can make my own coffee. You’re young. Go have fun in the city.”

  Jennifer grinned. “Okay, thanks. I’ll send Ms. Delaney right in.”

  Eric thought about putting his tie back on, rolling down his crumpled shirtsleeves. Attempting to tame his unruly hair. But, then again, why? Business hours had long since passed and Colleen had seen him in a lot less. Recently. Surely she wouldn’t care about his work-rumpled appearance.

  His body tightened with the memory of their night together, but he shoved it out of his mind. He’d bet she hadn’t popped by for an instant replay.

  He regretted his decision to remain so disheveled when she entered the room. She wore some kind of deceptively simple, slinky black dress that crossed over her delectable body and tied at the waist. A peep of red silk and lace showed at the deep V between her breasts, and shiny, metallic high heels turned her calves into works of art.

  “Wow,” he said, standing up and moving around his desk to the more casual seating area. “You look incredible, Colleen. Hot date?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  He gestured to the small sofa. “Make yourself at home. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”

  She took a seat on the sofa and crossed her legs, exposing more of their toned length to his appreciative gaze in the process. “Thank you. I was in the neighborhood. Actually—” long sigh “—I needed to see a friendly face. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” He sat on the other end of the sofa, badly wanting to kiss her. He didn’t think she’d be open to the idea of that here in the office, though. “Let me guess. Crappy day at Framus and Friends?”

  “Something like that.” She glanced around. “Nice digs, Nelson. They must like you here.”

  He made a mental note of the slight bite to her words, but moved on. It didn’t seem to be directed at him, and she didn’t seem ready to talk about it. Taking in the space around him with fresh eyes, he had to admit, his expansive corner office with two walls of windows looking out over the Chicago skyline did tend to impress. Especially now, when darkness fell and a zillion lights in the city twinkled like a diamond-studded blanket. “Thanks. I do okay.” He caught her looking at his antique scales collection. “Like them?”

  “They’re lovely.” She shook her head slowly, then cocked her head and regarded him. “You’re a constant surprise. I never would’ve pegged you for a collector.”

  “I’m really not.”

  She hiked one eyebrow.

  “In general, I mean. Those serve as a reminder of why I got into this field in the first place.” He smiled. “Especially on bad days like the one you seemed to have had.” A beat passed. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No. Well, sort of, but…” Colleen’s gaze moved uncertainly over the mounds of paper on his desk, and something in her expression shifted. “No,” she said firmly. “I should’ve called first. I don’t want to interrupt. You seem busy.” She shouldered her handbag, as if to leave.

  “And you seem unsettled.” He slid closer.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  He nodded. “Plus, I’m never too busy for you, and you’re my favorite interruption.” He took a chance and reached out for one of her hands, running his thumb across the knuckles.

  “What are we doing, Eric?” she whispered, her voice shaky. “What is this?”

  “Coll, come on. Tell me what you need. An ear? A shoulder? A drink?” An hour or two in my bed?

  “If only a drink could solve anything.” She laughed, without mirth. “I’d actually hoped you’d be free for dinner. Impulsive, I know.”

  “Dinner?” he asked, like an idiot.

  The corner of her mouth quivered up. “Strangely, yes. Dinner is what people do around this time of day. It’s one of the three widely recognized meals.”

  “Witty.” He shook his finger at her. “Very witty.”

  “So what do you say? I know I barged in on you, probably at a bad time, but will you have dinner with me?”

  “I’d like nothing more,” he said, then spread his arms wide and glanced down at himself. “Although, I’m not dressed to the nines like you. Sadly, I’m not even dressed to the fours or fives, so you’ll have to give me time to stop home and change.”

  “Whatever works.” She stood. “I should take something home to Mom, anyway. I haven’t been shopping lately and I can’t very well starve the woman.”

  “Sounds like we have a plan. I can pick you up.”

  “Okay. I seem to remember the promise of a visit to the Bourgeois Pig Cafe that never came to fruition.” She peered down at her attire uncertainly. “If I’m not over dressed—”

  “Trust me, sweetheart,” Eric said, as he stood and retrieved his jacket. “No one with eyes and a brain would ever complain about that dress, no matter where you went.” He crossed to her
and lifted her chin with one finger, touching his lips to hers once, twice, the third time a little deeper.

  That undeniable chemistry swirled and bubbled between them, just as it always had. He couldn’t help but stir the pot. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper as he smoothed his hands down the curves of her body. He wanted her, no doubt about it. Right here, right now.

  She swayed into him, falling into the kiss for a moment, then pulled away with a moan of what he hoped was regret. “We can’t do this, Eric.”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everyone’s gone.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I understand.” He smoothed the back of his fingers down her silky cheek, then let his hand drop. “Give me a sec to power down my computer, turn off my Christmas tree lights and we’re out of here.”

  “Christmas tree?”

  He pointed toward a massive potted jade plant at the apex of the two windows. He’d draped it with white twinkle lights.

  “Aw, that’s so cute, Nelson. You’re like the human version of a suburban shopping mall, decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving.”

  “It’s festive,” he said defensively, but with a wink, as he pulled the plug. “You can take the boy out of the burbs, but apparently you can’t take the burbs out of the boy. Anyway, it makes the plant feel special.”

  “I see,” she said dubiously. “Did the plant tell you that?”

  “Mock away, Delaney, but plants give off a vibe.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Don’t you have plants?” Didn’t everyone?

  Vulnerability showed in her eyes. “No, I guess I don’t. We moved around too much when I was growing up to keep living things. And now, I don’t have time or energy to keep anything but myself alive,” she said.

  He ignored the pang of pity in his middle, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it. He decided to keep things light. “I don’t know,” he drawled, draping his arm over her shoulder and leading her toward the door. “Looking like that, I’d say you could bring the dead back to life.”

  They left the office with Colleen laughing.