God, he’s good, she thought.
Michael shook hands with his client and walked down the steps, stopping to exchange friendly banter with some of the reporters. Maggie held her worn leather case in front of her, gripping it with both hands as she waited for him on the sidewalk.
“Ride with me back to the office,” he said. He waved and a cab pulled to the curb.
As they drove away from the courthouse, Maggie smiled shyly. “Congratulations, Michael.”
He gave a satisfied smile. “Congratulations, nothing, Mags. If you hadn’t brought up Whittaker and the photo, I don’t think the jury would have acquitted. That was good work.”
She felt the flush creep up her neck to her cheeks and she frowned. “You should have had the information. I can’t think how you didn’t get all the documents. I put them in your box, I know I did.”
Michael shook his head. “It’s odd.” He looked out the window, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
After a few minutes, he turned to Maggie. “We have a tradition on the 50th floor. Every time we win a case, everybody meets for drinks at Doc Watson’s. I’m going to finish up at the office and head over. John and Ellen are probably already there. Join us.” His expression was soft, hopeful.
She did, in fact, know about the traditional 50th floor victory gathering. She’d just never been invited. Maggie smiled happily. She couldn’t help it. “That sounds great, actually.”
“Good!” he nodded, settling the matter.
* * *
Ellen and John were already at the bar when Michael and Maggie walked into Doc Watson’s. Dan was there as well, along with Stan Hodges and several other 50th floor associates.
“Welcome, gang, this round’s on me,” Michael called.
“You won another one, Michael,” Stan said, hoisting his pint. “Here’s to the best defense money can buy.” Everyone raised their glasses in a toast.
Michael sipped and grinned thoughtfully. “I came close to fucking up,” he admitted. “Maggie came through with the witness we needed.” He gave her the full wattage Michael Rannigan smile. “Here’s to Maggie.”
“To Maggie!” everyone chimed in, as Maggie blushed deeply. John remained silent, his expression inscrutable, but Ellen tossed back her martini and glared at both Maggie and Michael.
Maggie sat on her stool sipping her pint and listening to the group exchanging war stories. She breathed deeply and glanced around. I belong here. I’ve earned this spot, she thought, and she smiled. She realized that in that moment she was immensely happy.
She watched Michael as he laughed and bullshitted with everyone, stopping once in a while to check his phone or type a text. God, he’s handsome. I know he’s attracted to me...maybe he is.
Absently she trailed her index finger through the condensation on her glass. We shared a moment, more than one actually. Michael looked up and she realized she was staring. Rather than looking away, she smiled warmly. He have her his best wolfish grin, the one where even his eyes smile, and went back to the story he was telling.
Maybe I’ll invite him to dinner, she thought, the idea causing her stomach to flutter.
Nearer to her, Dan was debating with John about the upcoming World Series when he stopped mid-sentence. “Holy...Where does he find them?” he asked reverently, eyes wide.
Maggie and the others followed his gaze to a knock-out blonde who’d just entered the bar. Her perfect golden layers hung past her shoulders and even from where she sat, Maggie could see the extravagant false lashes framing her large blue eyes.
The thing that drew the attention of everyone in the room, however, was the dress she was wearing. Crafted in slinky fuchsia, the loose cowl halter hung open to her navel revealing the inner curves of her enormous breasts. The skin-tight skirt was barely long enough to cover her ass. Maggie wondered how she could sit without flashing everyone a free shot of South Virginia.
“Pretty sure that one was a centerfold a couple of months ago,” John commented quietly.
The woman strolled up to Michael. “There you are. I didn’t think I’d ever find you.” She kissed him sensuously.
“I texted you the directions,” he said laughing. “It’s not that hard to find. Everyone, this is Kimberley.” He gestured vaguely with his right hand. “Kimberley, everyone.”
He slugged back the remainder of his pint and stood, taking his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. “Folks, it’s been a pleasure, but we have to run. Good work everybody, have a nice weekend.”
Maggie watched the scene unfold, fighting madly to keep her face neutral while inside, her heart was pounding.
Michael placed his hand on Kimberley’s bare back and they headed toward the door, but he stopped beside Maggie. “You were great today, Mags,” he said quietly. “I’m really happy you’re on my team.”
He smiled again with his eyes, that look that melted her to the core, but she forced a smile. Clearing her throat to move the lump that had formed there, she answered him. “Thanks, boss. See you Monday.” Maggie tried to breathe as she watched the pair walk away.
“He always does that, you know.” Startled, Maggie turned to find that Dan had wandered off and Ellen had taken his seat.
“Does what?” Maggie asked, aiming for nonchalant.
“Every time Michael wins a case he calls one of his girlfriends for a victory fuck.” Ellen stared at her without blinking. “He has them on a rotating basis, sort of a stable of blondes.”
She smirked at Maggie. “They’re always blonde. Always. I can’t think he’d ever settle for a red head.”
“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating,” Maggie responded, returning the bold stare, “but I work for Michael. What he does in his personal life is none of my business. Or yours, for that matter.”
“I heard about you last weekend. I heard that you were with Michael at that party. Don’t think for a second that you mean anything at all to him.”
Maggie stood and gathered her bag and her coat. “What I find incomprehensible is why you find my personal business so interesting.”
She said her goodbyes to the table before making her way out into the cool October evening. Out on the sidewalk she breathed deeply, working to stave off the tears she’d be damned if she’d show.
She dialed Ben’s number and rapid-fired him as soon as he answered. “Oh, God, Ben, I have so much to talk to you about. It was a great day and a horrible day all rolled into one. Wanna get a pizza and come over?”
“Whoa, Flynn, what’s up? Are you okay?” he asked.
“I just need to decompress. You won’t believe how this day went. We finished the case in court, and then...”
“I’m on a date, Flynn.”
His words stopped her cold. “Oh, shit! Ben, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think...” Maggie apologized. “Never mind, we can talk later.” Her voice broke slightly and she hated that it did, but she’d held herself together for as long as she could.
“Are you crying?” Ben asked.
Maggie took another deep breath and replied calmly, “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry I interrupted you. Call me tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, sweetie, I love you,” Ben said.
“I love you, too. Have fun,” she said, disconnecting.
Once safely ensconced in the comfortable solitude of her apartment, Maggie poured herself some wine and ran a hot bath. With her glass of wine and the warm glow of the candles she’d lit, Maggie sank into the warm water and sobbed, releasing all the pent-up emotions not only from that day, but from the confusion she’d felt all week long. Deep down she knew Ellen was right, and it pissed her off, made her feel foolish. Their kiss had meant nothing to Michael.
She considered calling Casey but realized she didn’t have the energy. She finished the bottle of wine and drifted off into dreamless sleep.
Chapter 24
The following Monday, Michael occupied himself following up on business that he hadn’t had time to do, having spent four days in court the pr
evious week. There were no court appearances slated for the week and he was just as glad to spend his days in the office returning phone calls and meeting with clients. There were some initial depositions scheduled for upcoming cases but anymore, Michael left that kind of thing to associates like Ellen and John. His real passion was litigation; he left the legwork to a few trusted others. There were perks to being a founding partner.
He was at his desk attending to some pressing e-mail correspondence but his thoughts drifted. He’d seen Maggie briefly at the morning meeting. After she’d set up coffee, she sat and took notes as everyone discussed the upcoming week. She’d greeted him as usual, contributed during the meeting, laughed and joked with the others. As soon as the meeting was over, she’d scooted off to take care of her responsibilities. He knew she had briefs to go over and documents to copy and file, in addition to taking care of the library and lunch. Just like any other normal day.
Yet there was something nagging at him, a leftover qualm from Friday night. When he and Kimberley had left Doc Watson’s, he’d gone out of his way to once again tell Maggie that she’d done a great job. He’d wanted to make sure she knew he valued her thorough work. She’d smiled and thanked him, wished him a good weekend even. But he hadn’t missed the hurt glint in her eyes. He was reasonably sure he knew the cause. Reading people was what he did.
As far as he was concerned, he’d enjoyed spending time with her at the music fundraiser. Maggie was a great girl. But he’d felt a little relieved when she’d met Kimberley.
Wouldn’t want Maggie to get the wrong idea, he thought. Because there’s no way she could have gotten the wrong idea when your tongue was halfway down her throat.
He wasn’t sure where the hell that thought had come from. He frowned. Lately, there were times he was unsure of the difference between the wrong idea and the right idea when it came to Maggie.
He just knew he couldn’t fuck up a good thing, and Maggie on the 50th floor was a good thing. She was sharp, took her job seriously no matter the task. And he liked her as a person, too, and God knows there were precious few he could say that about. Maggie was interesting to talk to, fun to be around.
He thought about the way she’d seemed to be going along as usual today. Maybe he’d mistaken her mood on Friday night. Stranger things had been known to happen. She certainly wasn’t behaving differently, there’d been no awkward conversations about his intentions. Michael shook his head. All this introspection was giving him a headache. I’m over-thinking it, he decided.
There was a light knock on his office door and Maggie walked in carrying his lunch from Atlantic Grill, her choice for the day. “Hey there, the lunch lady’s here,” she joked. “You had the vegan special, right?”
Michael laughed and set his glasses on the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, that’s me, bring on the tofu,” he teased.
Maggie laughed, too. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Yours is the sole.” She placed the container beside him on the desk and gave him a napkin and set of utensils. Rather than leaving, however, she stood uncertainly for a moment, hands clasped in front of her, a shopping bag dangling from her elbow.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.
And here we go, he thought. Nothing good ever followed those words. He felt his jaw tighten as images from the past couple of weeks flashed through his mind. Undaunted however, Michael pasted on his best charming smile and said, “Sure. Have a seat. What’s up?”
“I thought about it all weekend,” she said, her expression earnest.
His heart sank. She wants to talk about the kiss. I am some kind of stupid...
“Here’s the thing,” she continued, “I know I gave you all the files on the Larson case, I absolutely know I did. I mean, how could I have them but you didn’t?”
She stood and began pacing in front of his desk, gesturing with both hands. “I made all the copies at the same time. I put one in Ellen’s box and one in John’s, and I put yours in your box on Karen’s desk. So what happened? How did you not get it?” She stopped and faced him, wide-eyed.
Michael couldn’t have stopped the relieved look on his face for anything. He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know, Mags. I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, really. It all worked out.”
“I don’t like it, Michael. I don’t like feeling like I fucked up. So I have a possible solution if it’s alright with you.”
He nodded. “Okay, shoot.”
“I want to put your copies directly on your desk. And I know what you’re thinking,” she held up a finger, “you don’t want the clutter, so...” She reached into the shopping bag she’d set on the floor and pulled out a large bronze box embossed Hermes and tied with brown ribbon, and she handed it to Michael.
He removed the top to reveal a large black leather letter tray. The aroma of rich cowhide surrounded him as he took it from the box and gently slid his fingers across the slate grey suede lining. His initials, SMR, were embossed in sliver on the front of the tray.
She was watching him closely. “If you don’t like it, or you don’t like the idea period, I can take it back.”
“It’s monogrammed, Mags. I don’t think you can return it now.” He smiled playfully.
“Oh, I can and I will if you don’t like it,” she said confidently. “I would just feel so much better knowing that documents get directly to you.”
Michael placed the tray on the front left corner of his desk. “I love it,” he said grinning. “And once again, you’ve come up with a great idea for improving the way we do things around here. I especially like the idea that you will feel better about the whole situation, which, once again, all worked out anyway.” He gave his most genuine smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. This must have been expensive.”
“Don’t worry. You paid for it,” she said, winking as she closed the door behind her.
Chapter 25
Having risen early for a Saturday, Maggie stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she reached for the bottle of ibuprofen. It was the day after Michael’s date had met him at Doc’s. The dark circles under her eyes weren’t the only souvenirs of last night. Her head pounded and the idea of eating anything caused her stomach to roil. She slammed a pair of the orange pills, washing them down with tap water, and padded into the living room.
While she waited to feel human again, she flopped down on the couch and clicked on the television. A pretty blonde was giving the weekend weather forecast on the local news. It looked as though the temperatures would be mild for early October. When had they stopped showing cartoons on Saturday mornings?
Following the weather update was a report about the Larson trial. Suddenly, there was a tight shot of Michael, giving his speech about appreciating the jurors and his client’s wishes for the victim.
Maggie sighed. Sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. She thought about the previous day. I was stupid to think about going out with him, she realized. We work together, and there’s a certain amount of mutual attraction, but he lives the way he lives. End of story.
To her surprise, she found herself smiling. And that’s okay, she realized. I’m thrilled to work with Michael, I love to talk to him, banter with him; I’d much rather have that than not know him at all.
Her thoughts drifted to the missing documents. Ellen had been quick to throw Maggie under the bus. But Maggie was sure she hadn’t failed to get the files to Michael. So the question was, what had happened? If only there was a way to ensure that documents and files get to Michael every time. An idea popped into her head. She wasn’t sure if the ibuprofen had kicked in or that she had renewed purpose, but she returned to the bedroom, dressed quickly, and headed for the subway.
That night, she met Ben for sushi and they caught up on the past week. They laughed, commiserating about duties assigned to them as the least senior members of their offices and caught up on gossip about people they knew.
Try as she might, Maggie couldn’t get Ben to open up a
bout his date. “It was a first date and it went very well. I just want to keep it to myself for a while.”
“You won’t tell me where you met. You won’t tell me his name. For Pete’s sake, Ben, give me something.”
He just smiled mischievously. “He’s tall, dark, and handsome. That’s all you get.”
“You’re dating Michael Rannigan?” she joked.
“No such luck, but speaking of the devil,” he said, “what’s going on, Flynn? You sounded upset last night.”
“Why in the world would you think that would have anything to do with Michael?” Maggie responded defensively.
“Because A, I know you, and B, you just answered my question with a question.”
Maggie looked at her hands. “It’s nothing. I just had to define my deal with him, that’s all.”
“Your deal with him? What does that mean?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Ultimately, I work with him. Sure it’s great to hang out with him and we laugh a lot, but at the end of the day, I’m an employee. So...” she trailed off.
“You’re not looking me in the eye,” he observed.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she exclaimed, raising her eyes, “Michael has a whole pack of women he dates. I won’t be one of those. But I enjoy working with him and I’m going to do my job to the absolute best of my ability.”
* * *
Maggie hit the office Monday morning loaded down with bags of pastries and coffee, and another bag containing what she’d purchased Saturday at the Hermes shop on Madison. She was only slightly concerned that Michael might not approve of the fact that she’d charged it to his credit card. Her money was on her prediction that the purchase would be just the thing for a guy who favored luxury watches and custom-tailored Italian suits.
When she explained to Michael her concerns, he’d agreed with her idea to place files directly in his office, and he’d liked the black leather letter tray. It really was nice. When she’d informed him that he’d paid for it he hadn’t batted an eye.
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