The Bridgewater Case Read online

  We’ve been out three times now, and each night has ended in a kiss that makes me hungry for more. Our second date was impromptu. I wanted to hit the pub, and I wanted her there with me, so I made it happen. Our third date was last Saturday, when I took her to a restaurant I thought she’d enjoy. The more time I spend with her, the more I want her. And yet, there exists yet another truth. The more time I spend with her, the more afraid I am to want her.

  “Dane?” she whispers against my lips, holding me tighter.

  I bury my fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her neck while keeping her close as I mutter, “What is it, babe?”

  She shivers, and my cock twitches, pleased with the way she responds to me.

  “If we don’t stop, you’ll ruin my panties, and the day hasn’t even started yet.”

  “Christ,” I grunt, my growing erection now on its way to being uncomfortable.

  Her moan begs me to hold her closer as I plunge my tongue back inside of her mouth. I know I have to stop. I know I’m getting greedy, my need to be buried in her pussy more frustrating now than it was yesterday. I also know the quiet of our early morning at the firm could slip away from us at any moment, and we’ve agreed that what exists between us is not to be made readily available for office chatter.

  I force myself to put an end to our kiss, but I don’t hesitate to run my thumb along the underside of her breast. She sucks in a breath, her jaw going slack as her hooded, green eyes stare into my blue ones. That look—those fucking eyes—they make me regret the fact that I’ll be out on business over the weekend. I’m involved in a big merger, which has me flying down to Texas tomorrow morning. I won’t be back until Monday.

  “Dane?” she repeats on a whisper, her hands fidgeting with my tie.

  “Yes?”

  As if she’s wandering through my thoughts, she asks, “Will you call me while you’re gone?”

  “You know I will.”

  She smiles at me before bringing her lips to my ear. “I know—I just like to hear you say it.” Then, without another word, she pushes herself away from me and stands to her feet. Clearing her throat as she smooths out her dress, she flashes me one last flirtatious look and then brushes her hair behind her shoulders.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  Smirking, I assure her, “No, Sigourney, thank you.”

  She nods and then takes her leave. As I swallow the first sip of my coffee, made precisely as I prefer, I allow my eyes to follow her while she walks to her desk—then I get my own ass back to work.

  I CAN’T WIPE the smile off my face. I just can’t. In spite of the list of things I have to get done this morning, which should have me wearing nothing but a mask of focus, I cannot. stop. smiling. I feel silly for all of about ten minutes, and then I just don’t care. I’m happy, and I won’t apologize for that.

  “Are you seriously working? Or are there topless fireman carrying puppies on your computer screen right now?” asks Ava as she props her elbows atop the frosted glass of my desk’s frame.

  Furrowing my brow in confusion, I laugh as I reply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She grins and insists, “There have to be half-naked fireman on that screen, or perhaps half-naked fireman on your mind or…” Her sentence trails off, and she looks at me as though I’m supposed to fill in the blank.

  I shrug and then inquire, “Can’t a girl just be happy it’s Thursday?”

  The crooked way her mouth curls is all the answer I need.

  “Lunch. Today. I need to know what’s up.”

  “Nothing is up!”

  “Tell that to your face. Now, what time should I be ready? My load is pretty reasonable today.”

  I don’t put up an argument as I look at my schedule, sure that Ava won’t let me dodge her. Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve been able to keep myself from being interrogated for this long. Thankfully, the last couple of weeks have been busy—between the Bridgewater case, and this merger Dane’s been concerned with, I’ve had my plate full. I’m so easily consumed by work lately, it’s a miracle I remember to eat lunch at all.

  “How about one-thirty?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then,” she promises, departing as she waggles her fingers at me.

  DANE RETURNS FROM his client lunch at one-thirty on the nose. As he passes by my desk, Ava links arms with me while I’m buttoning up my jacket and announces, “I’m stealing your girl for an hour.”

  I look him straight in the eye as she says it, and I swear I see them darken, making my belly clench. He then jerks his chin in acknowledgement and continues to his office. It takes everything in me not to peek back at him as Ava starts dragging me to the elevator bay, but I manage. Even still, I can’t forget that look. It was almost possessive—and it was hot as hell.

  “Okay, what was that?” Ava demands to know the instant we’re closed inside of an elevator.

  “What was what?” I mutter, shaking my head to clear my thoughts and focus on my friend.

  Ava laughs, but it’s coated in sarcasm. She then lets go of my arm to fold hers across her chest. “I was standing right there. Are you really going to play dumb?”

  My mouth falls open, but no words come out. Quickly realizing that I have no idea what to say, I clamp my jaw closed and stare at the lift car doors.

  “Sally.”

  Still avoiding her gaze, I murmur, “Can we not talk about it here?”

  “I accept your terms.”

  The rest of our ride is silent, but my mind is racing. I’m not sure what to tell her. She’s my friend, and I trust her, but Dane and I decided that we weren’t going to tell anyone at the office. Not anyone. Knowing how Lydia and Chandler feel about me already, the last thing I need is for word about my dating Dane to spread.

  “Where are we going, by the way?” Ava asks as we reach the main lobby.

  “Oh, I thought you’d pick.”

  “There’s that new Mediterranean place about a block away. Think your Cali ass can handle the chill for that long?”

  Laughing as we make our way outside, I inform her, “Temperatures do drop in L.A. I mean, I’ve never seen snow, but this jacket isn’t new.”

  “All right—Mediterranean it is. Now, are you going to tell me what just happened upstairs? Or are you going to make me come to my own conclusions? My mind works fast, and eight-fifteen this morning wasn’t that long ago. I remember how ridiculously happy you were. And—”

  “I like him, okay?” I blurt, not able to hold it in anymore. Ava is not slow on the uptake. She’s basically the reason I know anything about anyone I might be curious about at the firm. Even if she isn’t well acquainted with everyone, she watches them, and she’s good at reading people. “I like him,” I repeat on a sigh.

  “Okay! Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  She nudges me with her elbow, and I force a smile, still hoping I can somehow get out of this conversation without revealing too much.

  “If I’m to go by the predatory look that flashed in his eyes back there, I’d be willing to wager that he feels the same. Are you guys, like—”

  “We’re not together,” I interrupt, telling the truth. Sure, we’ve been out a couple of times, but we’ve yet to make it past first base. Of course, these aren’t details I’m ready to share with her, but it makes the simplicity of my statement more believable, nonetheless.

  “Do you want to be?” she asks cautiously.

  I think on the answer, surprising even myself when I respond, “Yes. I mean, I think so. I don’t know.”

  “Well, that was about as clear as mud.”

  I hum a laugh, shaking my head as I try to make sense of what I’m feeling. When I think about mornings like the one we had today, I’m sure we’re moving in the direction I want us to be. When I’m babe, he showers me in attention and affection unlike any I’ve received in longer than I care to admit. When I’m Sigourney, he respects me like the law school graduate that I am, not making me feel less fo
r being attracted to him and wanting to act on it.

  Yet, all that being said, I’m not so sure that he’s sure. There are moments when I sense I’m looking at him, and talking to him, and getting to know him; but then there are times when I get the impression he’s not so sure he’s willing to give me the parts of himself that define who he really is. I can’t tell if it’s a boundary he’s not ready to cross, or if it’s a trust issue, but it makes me wonder if I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

  “Dating is hard. It’s complicated. Dating your boss? It’s a whole different ballgame.”

  “Mmmhmm,” she hums in agreement. “But?”

  I look up at her, shrugging as I admit, “No buts.”

  “But we both saw that look he gave you. Seems to me like you’re not the only one catching feelings.”

  “What would you do?” I ask, trying to throw off her scent.

  Arching an eyebrow at me in disbelief, she asks, “Are you kidding? You’ve seen the man, right?”

  “That’s a valid point, but he’s not your boss.”

  “Even if he was, who cares? It’s not a rule that we can’t date internally. If it was, Allen would have been out a long time ago. Besides, if whatever is building between the two of you is real, you can’t let your job get in the way of it anymore than you could in any other relationship.”

  Her encouragement makes me feel better at the same time that it brings me back to reality—a reality I’ve been avoiding simply because I can; because so long as nobody knows about what’s going on between us, they can’t accuse me of anything. However, since we’re technically speaking hypothetically, I question, “And if people at the firm knew, you don’t think they would assume I was trying to somehow spread my legs in order to get higher up on the food chain?”

  “What? Sally, you work your ass off day in and day out. Nobody would think that.”

  I scoff before I mumble, “Chandler would.”

  “Please,” she responds with an exaggerated eye roll. “Like he’d have a leg to stand on. He’s fucking Lydia and getting her to do all the shit responsibilities he doesn’t want to do.”

  “Wait, you know?” I gasp.

  She grins at me mischievously as we finally reach our destination, opening the front door for me to walk inside. Following closely behind, she assures me, “Sally, I may be a busy woman, but I’m never too swamped for office gossip.”

  I giggle, covering up my apprehension, all the while wondering how long it’ll be before she figures out the truth about Dane and me. I can only hope that when she pieces it all together, what exists between him and I will still be something worth chatting about.

  WHEN A KNOCK sounds at my door, I’m surprised to see Meghan as I look up across the room. She’s wearing a sweater dress, which can hardly be considered as such, and I seriously start to question what the dress code is around here. I’m sure I should know, but most people have the sense to dress appropriately, whereas Meghan seems to struggle with the concept of business professional. Yet, even with her lacey tights showing off plenty of her legs, and the low cut neckline that begs one to look at her barely-there tits, I don’t find her the least bit attractive.

  She doesn’t wait for me to invite her in before she opens the door and steps inside. Flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, she pops her hip and asks, “Where’s Sally?” her tone dripping in disdain.

  Already bored with this conversation and irritated with her presence, I mutter, “She’s on her lunch.”

  “Funny—for a secretary, she’s hardly ever actually at her desk.”

  “Funny,” I begin, leaning back in my chair, “For a secretary, you seem to be awfully concerned about someone who isn’t your concern.”

  “I’m just saying—half of the things I’ve seen her doing around here, she’s not qualified to do them. So, what, she gave you head and you loosened up a little? Honestly, it’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t understand why else you give her so much freedom.”

  Slowly rising to my feet, I plant my fists on top of my desk, leaning toward her as I grumble, “You have got some fucking nerve, talking about her like that.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?” she asks, a wicked smile curling her lips. “Or have I hit the nail on the head? You know, I wouldn’t be the first person who thought it. You’ve given her responsibilities associates in their first year don’t get to do.”

  I pull in a deep breath. Not wishing to stoop to her level, I bite my tongue and try to rein in my rising frustration.

  “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  Holding up a couple of envelopes, she informs me, “Some of your mail got mixed with Allen’s.”

  “And how does that require an entire conversation between the two of us?” I inquire with a scowl.

  “Wouldn’t have been necessary had your secretary been where she belonged.” As she speaks, she pouts her lips, the look in her eyes seemingly innocent.

  “What responsibilities I dole out to my employees is none of your business. It’s not my father’s business, either, and you can tell him I said as much—that is, if your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.” Sitting down in my chair, I shake my head at myself. I stooped—and yet, I can’t find that I give a shit. I don’t even look at her as I demand, “Drop the mail on her desk. And in the future, feel free to make such deliveries without interrupting my workday.”

  I hear her huff as she stomps her foot at me, but I still don’t look over at her. It isn’t until I hear her heels clicking against the floor at an adamant pace that I chance a glance in her direction. All I can think about as I watch her retreating figure is what she said about Sigourney.

  You know, I wouldn’t be the first person who thought it.

  Thinking back over the last couple of weeks, I try and remember every kiss, every touch, every lingering stare. I wonder if we haven’t been as careful as I thought, or if Meghan is simply full of hot air and empty accusations. Either way, I don’t like it.

  Fuck.

  I WALK INTO Club Saxton feeling like a dick.

  I left the office before Sigourney. I can’t say for sure what she was working on that had her still at her desk around six, but I didn’t bother asking. Worse, I ignored the thought that she might have been working late intentionally; knowing I was going to be out of town for the next four days; knowing we wouldn’t see each other again until Tuesday; knowing if she wanted any sort of proper goodbye from the guy she’s supposedly dating, then she’d have to wait until the office was less populated. Except, like a dick, I didn’t stay to give her any such goodbye. I merely offered her a promise of a call before taking my leave.

  I won’t be forgetting the look of disappointment on her face anytime soon.

  After a quick stop at home, where I change into casual dress and grab a bite to eat, I drive back to the outskirts of the city to meet Hale for a drink. We’ve been missing each other for weeks now, and it’s about damn time we got the chance to catch up with one another. Having texted me upon his arrival, I know he’s already up at the bar. I search for him as I make my way through the lounge. The night is still young, so the place hasn’t begun to fill up yet. In an hour, the crowd will be insane, as it always is.

  We spot each other at the same time, and he lifts a hand in a wave as I jerk my chin in acknowledgment. He stands when I reach his side, and we greet each other with a hug and a clap on the back. As we both seat ourselves on a stool, I take in his appearance, different than the last time I saw him. He’s let his dark hair grow out a little bit, now just as long on the sides as it is on top. His face is also covered in a low-trimmed beard, not much longer than mine. I chuckle softly as I shake my head at him.

  “What are you laughing about?” he asks, propping himself up against his arms on top of the bar.

  I rub my jaw as I tease, “You trying to be my Cuban double, or what?”

  Laughing, he runs his hand over his mouth and down his cheeks. “Thought I’d try something new. Maya se
ems to like it. Says it makes me look older.”

  “All right, old man—what are you drinking?”

  We each order whiskey, and we spend the next few minutes discussing work. While we aren’t in the same line of business, we understand the importance and the fulfillment the other finds in the day to day responsibilities of our titles. I appreciate the fact that he deals with life and death every day, and he respects my intimacy with the law. Any loss that he faces weighs more heavily than any loss I might encounter, but our mutual respect still measures the same. In the last month, we’ve each had our struggles, but we’ve also had our victories—and we share them, just as we always have.

  “All right—enough business talk,” he mutters, signaling the bartender for another round. “I want to know about this woman you’ve been seeing.”

  I shake my head before downing the rest of my first glass. Running my fingers through my hair with one hand, I use the other to slide the empty tumbler away from me with Hale’s. “I don’t know, man. There might not be anything to tell.”

  “What? Bullshit. Didn’t you say you’ve been out with her a few times?”

  “Yeah—I’m just not so sure if it’s a good idea. I was hesitant at first. Now, I think I should have listened to my gut and not my dick.”

  “Okay, what the fuck,” he asks, shifting in his stool so that he’s facing me directly. “What happened? Did she do something? Is she crazy?”

  I cough out a humorless laugh and turn to mimic his position, propping my elbow against the edge of the bar. “That’s the thing. She’s pretty damn amazing. She’s got a law degree; she works hard but knows how to play; she makes this noise when I kiss her—gets me every fucking time, man. And she’s gorgeous. Just gorgeous. She’s not crazy.”

  He stares at me blankly for a second before shrugging his shoulders, silently asking for a better explanation than what I’ve offered.

  “We haven’t even had sex yet, and I guess there’s already talk around the office about why it is I treat her the way that I do. She’s my secretary, but she’s smarter than my second year associates, and she does what I tell her. That’s why I treat her the way I do, not because I’m getting laid.”