Lois had used up her bravado in the six steps between her desk and Chaz’s office door. So here she stood, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, seemingly unable to loosen her hold on the brass doorknob. She realized that she must look like a fool, but for the life of her, she couldn’t move.
Chaz looked up and noticed Lois still by the door. “Lois?”
Lois willed her legs to move. And then her mouth. “I, uh, Mr. Covington, would you like some more tea before we begin?” Lois was quite pleased when she managed some semblance of a smile. Unfortunately, the expression she donned was closer to that of one about to pass gas.
“Lois, are you all right?”
Lois was literally saved by the bell. “I’ll get that, Mr. Covington.” Instead of answering the phone in his office, the way she’d usually do, Lois rushed back to her desk. “CovingtonLawOfficesthisisLoisspeakinghowmayIhelpyou?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry.” Lois took a deep breath. “Covington Law Firm. May I help you?”
While Lois handled the call at her desk, Chaz swiveled around and took in the impressive view of downtown Chicago from his lofty fortieth-floor law offices. His eyes narrowed, remembering the words Taylor had uttered a couple nights before : If she is a virgin, which I doubt, she’s ready for you to stroke her kitty. Chaz steepled his fingers as he pondered the possibilities. He was a shrewd, detail-oriented attorney whose reputation had been built on his ability to leave no stone unturned when it came to a case. He hadn’t thought so at first, but Taylor’s words, Lois’s odd behavior, and the erotically written e-mails he continued to receive were becoming a cause for concern. Chaz believed he needed to stop what had at first seemed harmless before it got out of hand.
Chaz punched the intercom line. “Yes, Lois.”
“Mrs. Smith is on line one, Mr. Covington. And your accountant is on line two.”
“Take messages for both calls and then come in here. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
Lois opened her desk drawer and hastily placed the manila folder at the very back. Determined to control her skittish nerves, she reached for her iPad and water bottle, then slowly walked back into her boss’s office.
“Close the door,” Chaz said without looking up.
The heartbeat she’d just slowed with deep breaths sped back up. Get ahold of yourself, Lois! It wasn’t at all unusual for her and Chaz to work behind closed doors, especially when he was dictating letters or discussing touchy or confidential issues regarding a client’s case. Anger replaced anxiety as Lois sat in one of the chairs facing Chaz’s desk. If she came face-to-face with the culprit behind the nasty notes, the ones that had her so discombobulated, she’d throttle her!
“Lois, what I’m about to discuss with you is strictly confidential. I don’t want any of the other lawyers or employees at this firm knowing about this.”
Lois worked to keep her face neutral. “Sure, Mr. Covington. What is it?”
Chaz leaned back in his chair and studied Lois a moment before he spoke. “As you know, I’m still getting the erotic e-mails that started on Monday.”
Lois dropped her eyes. “Yes, I know.”
“My first thought was to simply ignore them, that the sender would soon tire of the game and the e-mails would end. Perhaps that’s still the case. But because of their increased frequency and . . . stronger content . . . I’m not so sure this is still harmless fun. I talked it over with a, um, colleague, who agrees with me.
“Like I told her, it could be anyone. A high percentage of my clients are female, and women lawyers make up twenty-five percent of our profession. Then there are the foundations and other social entities I’m involved with.” Chaz rose from his chair and went to stand by the window. “It’s time to try and learn who’s behind this, before the situation escalates beyond e-mails.”
“I’m afraid that’s already happened, Mr. Covington.”
Chaz turned from the window. “What do you mean?”
“I have something to show you.” Lois went to her desk, retrieved the file, and returned. She walked over and handed it to Chaz, then sat back down. Chaz opened the file and began examining its contents.
“I’m sorry for not showing these to you sooner,” Lois continued, “but . . . I felt the same way you did, that you’d get one or two pieces of this . . . filth . . . and then it would stop. I know how busy you are with the Jimenez case and hoped to spare you from having to deal with this crazy situation.”
Chaz sat down at his desk, and after scanning the first document, reached for his letter opener. “I see you didn’t open this second piece of mail, though I totally understand why reading one was enough.” He hid a smile.
Lois took a breath and confessed. “Actually, I read two.” Chaz looked up, but Lois hurried on. “I was shocked when I opened the mail on Monday, and the only thing I could think of was making sure no one else saw what I’d seen. This was before our meeting when you told me to keep them as evidence. I’m sorry, Mr. Covington, but I destroyed the first letter you received.”
“It’s okay, Lois. I’m sure it was much like these two.”
“They are vulgar and crude. I . . . chose not to read any more. I did, however, notice that the postmarks are from different areas in L.A.”
“Has my exceptional assistant turned detective?” Again, that merest of smiles, the kind that caused Lois’s heartbeat to quicken, flitted across his face.
Lois warmed at the praise and at the way his newly grown mustache framed perfectly succulent lips. “Uh, not exactly. But I’m also curious about who is doing this.”
Chaz nodded, rereading the last letter. He wanted to know this person’s identity, and for more reasons than protecting his name and reputation. A part of Chaz was beginning to enjoy the sexy notes from this unusual suitor and was intrigued at whom she might be. He’d spent way more time than he should have last evening pondering the possibilities. Even now, he worked to keep his manhood in check as he scanned down the page and read the last lines of the letter he now held:
I want your thrusts to reach my core, and I will clinch my muscles to keep you deep inside me. I grow wet thinking about the taste of you. Yum!
Chaz’s soft chuckle piqued Lois’s curiosity. “What does it say?”
“Nothing that you’d want to hear.”
Lois nodded, but said nothing. She couldn’t even admit to herself that she’d like nothing more than to hear the contents of said letters being read from Chaz’s thick lips, in his deep, resonant voice. She’d told herself for two straight years that she wasn’t in love with Chaz Reginald Covington. But that lie was getting harder and harder to swallow.
“Needless to say, this could be an embarrassing situation for the firm if these notes ever became public. I realize you’re here early most days anyway and are therefore often the first to get a look at the mail. I want that to continue, Lois, and for you to help me keep this under wraps.”
“That’s no problem, Mr. Covington. I’ll do anything to help.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, because there is something else—another reason why solving this puzzle is important.” Chaz’s face hardened slightly, remembering an earlier phone call. “We need to find out who’s behind this letter-writing campaign just in case this isn’t some besotted female’s harmless flirtations.”
“What else could it be?” Lois asked, her expression puzzled until realization began to dawn. “Or maybe someone is intentionally creating fodder for a scandal. . . .”
“Someone like Pete Bennett, for instance, trying to drum up a way to smear my image.”
Lois paused, then shook her head with resolve. “I don’t think so.”
Chaz’s brow furrowed as he looked at Lois intently.
“I mean, well, of course I can’t be certain.” Lois swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Everyone knows that Mr. Bennett hates you.”
“And you heard with your own ears the verbal threat he recently made.”
Lois nodded. “Yes, I heard it.”
“He still hasn’t backed down. I just got off the phone with a buddy of mine who heard him on the golf course, maligning my name. I wouldn’t put it past that scumbag to try something like this.”
They were silent a moment, remembering how Lois had been in Chaz’s office when Pete Bennett had called. Chaz had answered via speakerphone, allowing Lois to hear the heated conversation in its entirety. Acting intuitively, Lois had pressed the message center’s RECORD button. Chaz never forgot a threat made against him, and Lois never forgot anything concerning Chaz.
Finally Lois spoke. “It could be Mr. Bennett, Mr. Covington. But I don’t think so.”
Chaz twirled a paperweight and once again Taylor’s warning came to his mind. Could you be right, Taylor? Could the woman who types my briefs now want to get in my briefs? Chaz quickly thought back to the firm’s social functions. Lois had come alone—except for last year’s Christmas dinner, when she’d brought her mother. There were no personal pictures on her desk, and while their conversation was 90 percent business, he’d never heard Lois mention a man—boyfriend or otherwise. In this moment, Chaz realized that, aside from the fact that she was an exceptional assistant, he knew very little about the woman sitting across from him. Chaz had been honest when he’d told Taylor he’d never looked at Lois “that way” before: as a woman with sexual urges who thirsted for love. But perhaps, he concluded, it was time to view Ms. Lois Edwards in a different light.
8
Lois placed the bag of Chinese food on the kitchen counter. She reached for a plate and piled it high with sweet-and-sour chicken, beef with broccoli, vegetable fried rice, and crab rangoon. If not for good genes and a high metabolism, Lois knew she’d weigh two hundred pounds instead of the one hundred and sixty that covered her five-foot-five frame. Food was often her companion, assuaging hungers unrelated to diet. This wasn’t a fact Lois acknowledged. Lois’s lifestyle demanded that certain satisfactions be denied.
Lois placed her plate, glass of tea, and fortune cookie on a tray and walked into the living room. It was a rare moment when she had the house to herself. Her mother had gone to an out-of-town women’s retreat and wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow night. Because of this, Lois had decided to skip the Friday night service that Save Your Soul held every other week, even though she often enjoyed the associate minister’s sermons. Where her mother’s sermons were more “fire and brimstone,” focusing on what not to do, Pastor Mack’s messages were upbeat, often laced with humor, and filled with what was possible when one had faith. But the week had drained Lois’s energy, physically and especially mentally. Lois looked forward to enjoying a delicious meal, a great movie, and a good night’s sleep.
The comedy Lois had selected on Netflix was a good one. Tyler Perry was her favorite actor, one who could usually make her forget anything that troubled her mind. Lois often came home filled with anguish about the plight of the law firm’s clients. Part of the reason she’d purposely chosen comedies tonight was because of Mr. Covington’s last appointment of the day: a mother whose son had been seriously injured when an amusement-park ride had malfunctioned. Her son had been thrown from the roller coaster and had landed on his head. This massive brain injury had left her son in a vegetative state. While Lois felt Mr. Covington was certain to get a substantial settlement for the family, there were some things that money simply could not buy, or replace.
As horrific as this situation was, an injured child wasn’t the main issue Lois was trying to forget. It was the words of the letters she’d finally read when Mr. Covington returned the file to her for safekeeping. Try as she might, for the rest of the afternoon she hadn’t been able to stop the pictures from forming in her head. Ones of Mr. Covington. Naked. And on top of her.
Lois reached for the remote and turned up the volume. She forced herself to focus on Madea and her “big happy family.” For a few moments she succeeded, laughing uproariously as Madea shook her signature gray wig, placed a hand on an ample hip, and read her poor victim the riot act. He has another hit on his hands, she concluded. Unfortunately, her joy only lasted as long as the movie, and began dissipating as the credits rolled. Even her fortune cookie’s promise of a silver lining behind every cloud couldn’t lighten her mood.
It was only ten o’clock, but Lois prepared for bed. She walked into the bathroom and, after brushing her teeth, decided to take a shower. She undressed and caught sight of herself just before stepping into the tub. She walked from the bathroom to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. For the first time in years, Lois viewed herself completely naked.
Her assessment couldn’t have been more clinical had it come from a doctor: small breasts, a pudgy stomach, hips bigger than she would have liked. She turned to the side, her mouth turning down as she viewed her less than ample—okay, flat—behind. Why was it, she wondered, that of all the things she’d inherited from her mother, Reverend Edwards’s butt wasn’t one of them? Granted, few people knew the extent of Beatrice’s treasures. She preached in long robes and, when she wasn’t dressed for ministry, wore loose, earth-toned caftans. But Lois had seen her mother’s assets and now wished she had them.
After taking her shower, Lois sat at the desktop computer in her room. She stared for a long moment at the blank page in front of her. Slowly, almost mechanically, she placed her hands on the keys and began to type:
Dear Mr. Covington . . . Lois stopped, deleted the salutation, swallowed hard, and began again. Dear Chaz . . .
9
The weekend passed quickly, and Lois was glad to be back at work. It had been a frenzied Monday, and Chaz was uncharacteristically demanding. Lois didn’t take it personally. She knew her boss was focusing on the final arguments of the Jimenez trial that had gone on for months. If Chaz won the case, it could potentially be one of the largest personal-injury settlements in the nation’s history. So Lois understood why Mr. Covington was on edge. She was nervous, too.
“Lois.”
That one word spoken through her phone’s intercom brought Lois scurrying into Chaz’s office. “Yes, Mr. Covington.”
“Sit down. I need to dictate a letter that then needs to be sent across town by messenger.”
Chaz had just begun verbalizing his thoughts, when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Covington,” Gina said softly, as both she and the subtly provocative perfume she wore approached his desk. “But this FedEx came with special instructions to be delivered immediately.”
Lois begrudgingly admitted that Gina smelled good and looked even better, taking in her fire-red suit—the short skirt and high heels emphasizing long, well-shaped legs. In that moment, Lois decided to stop by the mall on the way home and purchase some perfume.
“Thanks, Gina,” Chaz curtly replied. The tone of his voice clearly indicated that now was not the time for flirtation.
Gina got the memo. “You’re welcome,” she said and quickly walked out of the room.
“This is probably the evidence I requested,” Chaz said, quickly opening the envelope. He pulled out the single sheet of paper. Only then did he notice that a pair of wispy-thin lace thongs was stapled to the bottom.
“Geez, not today,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. He placed the unread letter and scented panties back inside the envelope and handed it to Lois. “You know what to do with this.”
“Yes, of course.” Lois’s hands shook as she took the envelope, remembering her miserable attempt over the weekend to write a sexy letter to Chaz. She hadn’t even been able to mentally form the words, much less type out a message. As much as she despised the nasty-gram culprit, she begrudgingly acknowledged the writer’s imagination, and guts. Lois now knew for sure that she could never do such a thing.
Once Chaz finished dictating the letter, he left the office to spend the rest of the day in court. The law firm’s receptionist had called in sick, so on top of her other responsibilities, Lois wa
s splitting phone-answering duties with Gina and two other secretaries. She didn’t mind the extra work. It kept her focused on other people’s problems instead of her own. She was almost at the end of her last phone shift when two disturbing calls came in.
The first call was Jennifer Covington, Chaz’s ex-wife. “He’s in court,” Lois responded when Jennifer asked to be put through to his line. She wished she could be nonbiased where Jennifer was concerned, but the fact that this woman had committed adultery, and that she’d cheated on a stellar man like Chaz, put her below the bottom of Lois’s loser list.
“Which court is he in? I need to talk to him ASAP.”
“I’m not sure,” Lois lied, a rare occurrence. “You can call the courthouse and speak with the docket secretary. Would you like the number?”
“Do I come off as stupid to you?” Jennifer asked, her voice full of attitude. “When it comes to his work, Chaz doesn’t make a move without you knowing about it, and you’re probably pretty up on his personal calendar, too. Whatever you think about me, you’re talking to Chaz’s ex-wife and the mother of his children. Don’t think I can’t get your pitiful butt fired, and don’t think I don’t know that you could reach Chaz if you really tried. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, withholding information that I have a right to know, but please believe me when I tell you that you do not want me for an enemy!”
Lois had barely recovered from this verbal thrashing when the second call came in.
“Elizabeth Stein’s office for Mr. Covington,” Melanie said. The cheeriness that usually accompanied her greeting was noticeably absent.
“He’s in court, Melanie. May I take a message for Mrs. Stein?”
After writing down the message inviting Chaz to a weekend fund-raising dinner for an influential politician seeking a second office bid, Lois changed the topic. “Are you okay, Melanie? Your voice is missing its usual smile.”
Crush Page 11
