Another half-laugh. 'Well, there you go.' He brought his feet down off the desk, swivelled in the chair to face her. 'I wasn't going to let her go. I told her I'd change.'

'From what?' But, of course, she knew.

He made a face. 'All the hours. But hell, it wasn't like she didn't work around the clock, either. Still, I told her I could take on less work. I would.'

'Was that it, then, the hours?'

'That's what she said – if we weren't ever going to see each other anyway, what was the point…?' He left it hanging.

'But?'

Another awkward shrug. He began to say something, stopped, blew out some air. After a minute, he raised his eyes again, met Treya's. 'Hell, you know me, Trey. I'm not the best person in the world. I know I've been shitty to you and there's no excuse for that. I guess Elaine, too, taking her for granted. But my work…' He paused, realizing that this wasn't going to fly. 'No, not my work. It was me. I know it was me.' His eyes implored her to believe him.

'So what happened?'

'Nothing, really. At least no one event. That's what she said. But I think it was.' The rain suddenly picked up, loudly tattooing the window. Both of them turned their heads, then Welsh brought his attention back to her, continued. 'A couple of weeks ago, you might remember, we had a weekend planned, go up to Mendocino, leave the pagers home…'

'But you had some intern problems and it didn't happen.' Treya suppressed a smile. 'She did mention something about that.'

'I bet she did.'

'Well, OK, she wasn't happy, Jonas, but she didn't talk about moving out.' Treya paused. 'She said she just thought you two needed to find some time to talk, get some things worked out again.'

'She told you that?' A show of great relief. He leaned into the chair, stretching out. With both his surgeon's hands, he combed the flowing black hair straight back off his forehead. 'That helps.'

The words – the self-absorption they betrayed – struck Treya like a blow. 'How does that help, Jonas? How can it possibly make any difference now?'

'No. I don't mean…' With an apologetic gesture, he started over. 'Of course it doesn't. What I meant was I thought she'd made up her mind – she told me she'd made up her mind. But she might have listened.' Again, his eyes implored her to believe him. 'I could have changed. I could have convinced her to stay, don't you think?'

Treya shook her head sadly. 'I don't know, Jonas. I really don't know.'

'I wasn't going to let her go,' he repeated, now almost to himself. 'I would have done anything.'

She was pretty sure she knew what Jonas Walsh thought he was trying to say. But what she heard sent a chill up the back of her spine.

There was a message from Jackman on her desk, another summons to his office.

His secretary flashed some attitude this time. It was subtle enough to allow denial if it ever came up, but Treya read the message clearly – uppity girl wasn't making any friends putting the moves on another partner. Same as she had with Elaine. Too good to work with the rest of us. And admitted inside right away, too, yes ma'am. Certainly, Mr Jackman. No waiting for this paralegal, and isn't that a fine how-do-you-do when Mr Jackman had been known to keep the mayor waiting? Girl must think she is something.

But there was nothing Treya could do about the jealousy. It was an office, after all, filled mostly with women working for powerful men. The claws were out, protecting territory, at all times.

So Treya entered the sanctuary, and Jackman told her to take the seat set up in front of his desk. She took it, then thanked him for the lunch. 'It was a nice idea. I think people really appreciated the opportunity to talk.'

The senior partner shrugged. 'I'm afraid it may have upset Dr Walsh, and that wasn't my intention.'

'No.' She paused, wondering how much more to say. 'He was upset to begin with, sir. He and Elaine-' This time, she stopped dead. He and Elaine what?

'Of course, of course. Naturally.' Jackman hadn't gone behind his desk. Instead, he moved an out-basket from the corner of it and threw a leg across, settling into a casual pose. 'When was the wedding going to be?'

'June.' She cleared her throat. 'June.'

He nodded for a moment. 'It's awful,' he said. 'Just awful.'

'Yes, sir.'

He nodded again, got up, walked a few steps back to his own window and looked at the rain. It almost seemed to her that he was steeling himself. To fire her early? She held her breath.

'Well, Treya,' he began, then caught himself. 'Do you mind if I call you Treya? What kind of name is that, by the way?'

A feeling of relief washed over her. It felt like the first time she'd smiled in a week. 'Treya's fine, and I don't know what kind of name it is. I think my dad was just weird, sir. He liked the sound of it. I've got an older brother named Sixto, if that's any help, and he's the first child.'

'Sixto?'

'We call him Six.'

'And who wouldn't?' Smiling, Jackman walked the few steps back from the window, put his haunch on the desk again, leveled his gaze at her. His expression grew serious. 'So, how is it going on the job front?'

She drew a quick breath, put on her brave face. 'Not too bad, sir, though it's only been a couple of days. I've still got a few weeks on Elaine's files.'

'But you do have some other work lined up?'

'Not quite yet. But I've put the word out. I'm sure it'll begin to trickle in before long. These things don't happen overnight.'

'No, I know that.' But Jackman easily read between the lines. There wasn't much, if any, firm work for her on the horizon.

'My first choice is to stay here.' Her expression revealed that she hadn't premeditated the remark, was somewhat embarrassed by it.

'Well, that's good news. It's refreshing to see loyalty in a person nowadays.' He threw a quick glance over her shoulder, but he wasn't looking at anything. His mind was working. 'Well,' he said matter-of-factly, 'I didn't want to step on the toes of any of my colleagues if they'd already claimed you to work, but since it appears they haven't, it happens that I might have a small project of my own if you could find some time. It's mostly grunt work, I'm afraid, an old civil case that's been on continuance for four years and now suddenly Judge Branard has decided he's ready to review data, all of which needs to be updated. It's probably five hundred deadly dull hours, but it would give you some billable hours until you can fill your book.'

Five hundred hours! He was giving her five hundred hours of work. Twelve weeks' reprieve! She struggled to keep her face impassive, and wasn't entirely successful. 'I'd be very interested in that, sir. I could start-'

He nodded genially, interrupting her. 'Next Monday will be fine. The files are still in storage and I've got to get them moved up here. And I wouldn't want you to give it all your time – say twenty hours a week -I know you've got Elaine's work to finish. But I must warn you again, this is a tedious job. You might want to look it over before signing on.'

She heard herself say that that was a good idea, although she knew that she would dance barefoot on hot coals if it meant keeping her salary and benefits.

'Let's say nine o'clock Monday morning, then?'

'Yes, sir. And thank you.'

He smiled at her. 'You might not thank me when you see what it is.' He turned to look at the rain hammering the window. Told her it was good to see the rain. They needed rain.

She didn't get up.

Perhaps she would like some coffee. He always had some in mid-afternoon – he tended to go all logy after lunch. He had his own espresso machine. She could bill the quarter hour or so to administrative.

When he'd made and poured it, he set the cups on the coffee table and gestured her over to the couch, where they sat on opposite ends, four feet apart.