by Susan Hatler
“Actually, I’m making the rounds. I ordered a welcome cake for Ryan from Freeport Bakery. Their chocolate-with-cream-fillings are out of this world.” Valerie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Care to chip in?”
I had the sneaking suspicion Valerie thought buying Ryan a cake would edge her closer to a date. Not like I cared to help Val in her quest (or welcome Ryan, for that matter), but I searched in my wallet for five bucks. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She pocketed the green bill. “See you in the break room at three.”
Val flipped her raven hair over her shoulder, then strode out of my office.
I turned back to the small stack of phone bills I’d been reviewing before Val’s annoying interruption. Sarah had highlighted all calls made to the defense attorney’s office in San Francisco, and there was a sticky note on the file from Ryan asking her to do so. There was also a note from Ryan asking me to draft a summary of my telephone conversations.
I set the phone bills in the document holder by my computer and filed the Somerset pleadings Ryan had borrowed back in my cabinet. Why had Ryan asked Sarah to highlight my calls with the defense attorney? And why did he want me to type out my conversations? Was this some kind of power trip?
My career had sunk into a deep dark pit. There was no denying that. Also, for some reason, my conversation with Sarah was nagging at the edge of my brain. I’d never worried about marriage or aging, so the jury was still out on whether or not I actually had PML. Yeah, my thirtieth birthday was next month. And, sure, I was as single as it gets. Whatever. . . .
It’s not like my singleton status made a bit of difference at three o’clock when the entire department ate Valerie’s to-die-for cake and celebrated the arrival of Ryan Shaw, while I remained chained to my desk trying to recollect two-year-old conversations with defense counsel.
I seethed as my fingers hit the keyboard. Yes, the Somerset file was a high-value case, but Charlie had never questioned the way I organized my files. Just another reason I needed that job from Madison McKenzie—as soon as possible.
****
Instead of hearing from Madison McKenzie Friday morning, Kristen had called from her honeymoon in Italy to find out what I was doing “for fun” today. Eyeing an email from Sarah, I told her I was taking my assistant to lunch. I failed to mention I hadn’t invited Sarah yet. When Kristen prompted that lunch with my assistant was work-related—sigh—I added that I planned to invite Ginger, too.
This is how, an hour later, I came to be sitting at a restaurant in the Geoffries hotel with Sarah and Ginger for lunch. The restaurant was packed, but we got a corner table with a nice view of the garden patio. Once we gave our meal orders to the waiter, I vowed to forget about work for an hour.
Ginger placed her napkin in her lap. “I told my sister I was having lunch with you, Jill. Do you handle something called general liability? She’s looking for a good lawyer she can trust.”
“There have been some changes at my office, and I’m not sure how they’re going to pan out.” I exchanged a look with Sarah, but knew she’d keep my confidence. I hated turning down work, but I didn’t want to take her sister’s case, then abandon her when I got a job at McKenzie, Atkins, Haugan, & Hall. But I couldn’t refer her to Madison’s office in case, for some horrible reason, she didn’t hire me. “How soon does she need an attorney?”
She reached for her water glass. “She’s miserable with who she has now, so the sooner the better.”
“I understand.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the card Charlie had given me for his new firm with Ethan. “Here’s the card for Harrison & Mansfield. They’re both fantastic lawyers and she can trust them implicitly.”
“Thanks, Jill.” She accepted the card, then slipped it into her purse. “Guess what? Victor invited me wine tasting in Napa this weekend.”
Sarah’s face lit up. “Sounds fun. How long have you been dating?”
“Over a month now.” Ginger tossed me a quick glance. “Jill doesn’t approve because he was supposed to be my date at a wedding last weekend, and he backed out.”
No point in pretending I was a fan of Victor. “If you can’t count on him, he’s not much of an asset. I think you deserve more.”
“Oh, really?” Ginger gave me a wicked smile. “I saw you getting hot and heavy with Ethan’s lawyer friend on the dance floor. Would you consider him an asset?”
I shifted in my seat. Even though Sarah had already heard about the kiss, she didn’t know who it had been with, and I wanted to keep it that way. I rubbed my temple and considered whether Ryan could be a future asset, but I really didn’t know him more than a twirl and a kiss. And as the guy who wanted to micromanage me to death. “Definitely not an asset. More of an irritation, like Victor.”
Ginger’s mouth dropped open. “Are you saying Ryan didn’t ask for your phone number?”
My cheeks heated. “No, one dance was enough. Can we talk about something else?”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Ethan’s lawyer friend is Ryan Shaw?”
Sarah was way too astute. Sigh.
I threw my gaze toward the ceiling, hoping Kristen was happy on her honeymoon. Because, at the rate I was going, she was in for a long therapy session with me when she got back. “What happens at lunch, stays at lunch. Agreed?”
Sarah bit her lip, obviously suppressing a smile, and nodded. “Val would die if she knew. All she talks about is Ryan’s hotness.”
“Ryan works at your firm?” Ginger moved her hands to her lap as the server set down our salads. “That makes for convenient dating.”
“Not even close.” I lifted my fork, squeezing the handle until my fingers hurt. “He is the partner’s nephew and they just hired him for the promotion that should’ve been mine. New subject? Please?”
Ginger shook her head. “Now I get why you’re not seeing him again. There must be some way to resolve this, because I really saw you two as a couple.”
Yeah, because I’d been acting. “Sarah, I’ll pay you a million dollars if you explain PML to Ginger right now and get her to dump Victor.”
Sarah met my gaze, and I could see her wheels turning about the whole Ryan subject. Luckily, she showed mercy on me and engaged Ginger in a dialogue about pre-midlife.
I eyed Sarah as she chatted with Ginger. Was Sarah PML?
Ginger’s voice rose as she relayed one of Victor’s annoying traits, but then insisted that no man was perfect. Ginger was most definitely PML.
After I finished my salad, I rubbed my temples—partly from Sarah learning about Ryan and me, but mostly because his kiss was circling my brain again. My cheeks heated and I hoped they hadn’t noticed. That kiss had meant nothing. Yes, absolutely nothing. But I didn’t want to explain that to my friends.
I was having a hard enough time convincing myself.
****
I spent all afternoon working on a new treat Ryan had requested—a special report on the Somerset file. Never mind that I’d settled multi-million-dollar cases without unnecessary reports. I tapped SEND on my email, getting the tedious overview off to him by his five o’clock deadline.
Then I stared out my office window, and chewed viciously at my thumbnail. It was the lowest of the low that I’d started biting my usually-manicured nails. I glanced at the time and it was 5:05 p.m. Time to go home. Since when had I become a clock-watcher like my colleague Troy?
Whatever. If I couldn’t advance in my career, why stay late? But as I reached for my briefcase, I caught sight of the yellow paper Sarah had dropped in my in-box a few minutes ago. Memos were always in yellow. What if it was urgent? I willed myself to ignore the glowing piece of paper but my stubborn sense of duty won out.
I snatched the yellow slip and scanned the first few black-typed lines. It was an announcement welcoming the arrival of Ryan Shaw. What the . . .? Everyone had celebrated already with his cake on Tuesday. I crumpled the wicked piece of paper, then hurled it into the wastebasket. I snagged my briefcase and bee-lined for the d
oor.
As I rounded my desk, Ryan sauntered in through the doorway blocking my exit. “We need a truce.”
Our kiss flashed through my head, and my eyes narrowed. “I’m on my way out.”
In answer, he shut my door, then gestured toward one of the chairs in front of my desk. “We’re talking about this.”
Maintaining a calm demeanor even as my heart pounded against my ribcage, I sat and crossed my arms. “Looks like I don’t have a choice, boss.”
He sat with his elbows on his knees, and leaned toward me. “What can I do to make this right?”
Not look so hot, for starters. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
His mouth twitched. “You told me to.”
My eyes narrowed. “If you’d mentioned you were the job thief, I wouldn’t have.”
“Look, I get why you’re upset.” He raked a hand through his hair, tousling it in a sexy way. “But we have to work together. Unless, whatever you have going on with Madison McKenzie is happening sooner rather than later.”
My stomach knotted. “Did you say anything to the partners?”
“No.” He met my eyes. “What you told me was personal, not business. I’m not going to repeat any of it.”
That was actually decent of him. “Charlie let me work independently.”
He nodded. “I know. We had a meeting and he spoke very highly of you.”
I shook my head. “Then why are you requesting these detailed reports on my file? I know what a case is worth. It’s counter-productive when you have me spend time writing a report listing jury verdicts in lawsuits similar to the Somerset case.”
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m not trying to micromanage you. I trust you to handle the case, but need you to document the file more thoroughly.”
My shoulders tensed. “Whatever you say.”
“Thank you.” His mouth curved upward, and he straightened. “Give this a chance before you condemn me.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to blink, or turn away. No such luck. “Are we finished?”
“Not by a long shot.” He tilted his chair back so far the front two legs were off the ground. “In fact, I’m not leaving this office until the ice is broken.”
I glanced at my watch. “It’s after five and I still have quite a bit of work to finish up.”
He crossed his arms, then bobbed his chair up and down.
I snatched a paper from my in-box, and scanned the copy invoice waiting for my approval to be paid. Uh-huh. Yep. Looked like we definitely needed those copies Sarah ordered. Was this guy stubborn or what?
“If this is going to take awhile, I’m ordering take-out.” Ryan pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket. “Despite my obvious good nature, I can turn grouchy if I don’t eat regular meals. Sushi sound good to you?”
The corners of my mouth turned downward at the mention of my favorite food. My eyes narrowed as I wondered who had sold me out.
His hazel eyes peered into mine. “Come on, Jill. I’m waving the white flag here.”
I blew out a breath, having no choice but to relent. He was, after all, my boss. And the greatest kisser of all time. . . “Fine. But you’re buying.”
“Agreed.” Ryan stood, then studied me.
My eyes widened. “What now?”
“I have a feeling we’re going to need a bit of saké.” He flashed a grin. “On second thought, let’s go out. I hear there’s a great place at 5th and L.”
Takeshi! That was my all time favorite sushi restaurant. I frowned. Sarah would have some serious explaining to do.
Chapter Four
At Ryan’s insistence, I ordered for both of us. I chose a variety of sushi and my mouth watered as I pictured the small rolls of rice with crab or tuna nesting in the middle. Sushi and my favorite restaurant—what more could a woman ask for? I glanced across the table at Ryan and my heart did that jumping thing that sent shivers down to my toes. But I reminded myself this wasn’t a date.
“Thanks for ordering.” Ryan picked up his chopsticks and fiddled with them. “How much sushi will I have to buy until you like me?”
The corners of my mouth rose. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Midnight snack. “There isn’t enough in the world.”
“Harsh.” He reached for the saké, and poured the rice wine into my small porcelain cup. “Guess I’ll have to settle for getting you not to scowl at me.”
I shrugged. “That might take less.”
The server appeared, and set a large wooden boat on the table—colorful sushi rolls lined up in neat rows on the top deck.
I poured a generous amount of soy sauce into my dish and mixed in a dab of hot wasabi.
“You going to do mine, schnookie?” he said, with a playful grin.
“Absolutely, dumpling.” I poured soy sauce into his dish, then shoveled an enormous amount of the hot green paste on top. Mixing it together with my chopsticks, I smiled. “Hope you like it hot.”
His eyes leveled mine. “I like everything hot.”
My stomach flipped from his sultry words, and the sexy smirk he was giving me. Ignoring my body’s traitorous reaction, I glanced away, then maneuvered a California Roll with my chopsticks and dipped it into my soy sauce. I bit down and softly groaned with delight as my teeth sank into the sweet rice roll, filled with crab, avocado, and cucumber.
Ryan studied me, his eyes fixed on me as I chewed. He hadn’t even picked up his chopsticks.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I dipped another roll in my sauce, stared at him while I chewed, and tried not to groan this time.
“Of course.” He tugged at his white polo shirt collar, then dipped a roll into his sauce, and popped it into his mouth. Unfortunately, he showed no sign that the massive amount of wasabi was burning his mouth like I’d hoped. He just continued chewing slowly.
My mouth felt like it was burning watching him. “Water?”
He shook his head, then swallowed. “What for?”
“Never mind.” Ugh. Clearly, there was nothing I could do to drive this guy nuts. He seemed torture-proof with that permanent bad boy grin that I was starting to adore. “What made you move to Sacramento?”
“I practiced law in San Francisco for a number of years, then moved to San Diego for . . . personal reasons.” His eyes clouded and two lines formed between his brows. Then he cleared his throat and continued. “I rented a furnished apartment for now. When I buy a place, I’ll have my furniture shipped here.”
He set his chopsticks down and refilled each of our tiny cups with saké. Then he eyed the various sushi choices before choosing a shrimp tempura roll. He dipped it briefly in his dish, which apparently didn’t have enough wasabi to make it unbearable. Darn.
Next time, I’d put way more wasabi in the dish. Then I frowned, reminding myself I didn’t want there to be a next time.
****
On Saturday night, I drove downtown and valet-parked at the Geoffries hotel. Madison had called my cell Friday night to schedule a meeting with me for the following Thursday. When she’d asked me what exciting plans I had for the weekend I’d fabricated a girls’ night out. Since I had to follow through, I’d invited Sarah and Ginger to meet me for drinks.
Remembering Madison’s outlook on life about finding balance, I felt a little guilty going out instead of working, but the outing didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. I strode into the lounge and found my friends seated on an elegant sofa, perusing a cocktail menu.
“Hey, Jill.” Ginger stood, and pulled me into a hug that felt like we’d been lifelong friends.
“Hi.” I hugged Sarah next, then ordered a Mojito from the server.
Ginger sat at one end of the couch, then faced me at the other end, wiggling her brows. “Do anything fun last night?”
I turned to Sarah who was in the middle. “You told her?”
Sarah burst out laughing. “You had a date with your hot boss. Don’t act like you didn’t love him treating you to sushi.”
&
nbsp; “It was not a date,” I said, pointedly. “But thanks to you, I had to endure an entire meal with the man who took my promotion.”
“How’d the rest of the week go?” Ginger twirled her long, dark hair around her finger. “I hear he’s a slave driver.”
“He’s not a slave driver,” I said, feeling defensive for some reason. “He just assigned these tedious tasks, documenting my work on this specific case, which takes me away from my other cases. Such a waste of time.”
Sarah accepted her Margarita from the server, then turned in my direction. “Do you think he’s that dedicated in everything he does?” She fake-swooned and giggled.
“You have a one-track mind.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help wondering if her words were true. His kisses had certainly been thorough and my stomach warmed as if to prove the point. “Other than being anal, he’s not horrible to work for, but it drives me crazy how everyone falls all over him at the office.” I frowned at the mental image of Valerie sashaying her narrow hips every time Ryan walked by.
“I’m sure it’s nothing against you.” Sarah pointed out. “We’re kind of stuck, since he is our new boss. I’d love to hate him for you, Jill. But Ryan is just so . . . likable.”
“Great. So he’s a big hit and I’m thrown out like an unsubstantiated motion.” I waited for someone to counter me with a positive comment. Nothing.
“I still think you should date him.” Ginger clapped her hands together. “That’ll get you a fat raise.”
My body warmed at the thought of dating Ryan. “He has a reputation with women.”
Ginger scooted forward on her cushion. “What kind of rep?”
I sipped my Mojito, the bubbly, minty flavor delighting my taste buds. “At the wedding, one of his friends indicated that he hops from one woman to the next.”
“Are you sure?” Ginger seemed crestfallen. “He’s Ethan’s best friend, so he can’t be that bad.”
“I’m not interested in dating Ryan Shaw.” He was a one-way detour I didn’t plan on traveling. I looked at each of them intently just to convey the message there was no way I’d date Ryan—not that he wanted to date me anyway. Fling? Maybe. He wasn’t the type to offer anything more. “Besides, my life is bad enough as it is.”
