“Can you please take a chair?” He pulls a pencil from my desk, twirling it between his fingers. Not five seconds later, he snaps it between them.

“I’m fine. Besides, the view is better up here.” His eyes trace my legs, stop on my breasts for a split second before finally finding mine.

“I don’t know if I have time to take on your case.” It’s mostly a lie.

“But you will. Cole promised me that he’d get it taken care of and he’s not here.” I pull my reading glasses on and unclasp the manila envelope.

“Give me a few hours to look through this, and I’ll get some documentation ready for the council. Can I call you when I have something?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up to see him staring at me, thumb skimming over his lower lip.

“Are you sure you’re married to Cole Mason?”

“As far as I know. Do you have a problem with that?” He grins. Cocky ass.

“No. He just seems like he deserves worse…and you deserve better.”

“There’s this line,” I start, motioning my finger between us. “You’re not allowed to cross it.”

He laughs. “I wasn’t hitting on you. I can have any woman I want on any night that I want her. A married lawyer doesn’t even rank on that list.” I stare back down at the paperwork before he has the chance to see through me. A lawyer must not hit the top of Cole’s list lately either.

“You can leave now,” I announce, not bothering to look up.

“There’s one more thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“There’s a club opening tonight. The guy who runs it went through something similar with the city. Thought it might be good for you two to talk.” I look back up, but it doesn’t last long. I can’t place it but there’s something about the way he glares at me.

“Leave me his number, and I’ll get permission to talk to his attorney.”

“Do you always stare blankly at your desk when you have paying clients in your office?” he asks, voice smokier than it had been.

He dares me.

I accept. For the first time, I stare long enough to actually see the color of his eyes—a blue so pale and vivid they remind me of a laser beam.

“I do when they don’t have appointments.” Those laser eyes narrow in on me and scan my entire body.

“It’s a good thing you’re not my type.”

“And why’s that?” He leans a little closer.

“I won’t be tempted to fuck you. I’d hate to have to hire a new attorney.”

My mouth gapes. Beatrice picks this exact moment to come in with two piping hot cups of coffee. Her eyes lock on mine. If she doesn’t see how badly I want him out of here after all these years of working together, she hasn’t paid enough attention.

“Mrs. Mason,” she says as she sets the cups down on my desk. “Your 9:30 appointment is waiting.”

I smile. She’s good. “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be done in a couple minutes.”

“Will do.” Her gaze catches mine one last time just as she walks out the door. She winks. That woman is definitely restricted from retiring. Ever.

My attention shoots straight back to my client. “You’re crude.”

“See, you already know everything there is to know about me.” His pink lips press to the black coffee cup.

“By the way, I’m not leaving you his number. You’re coming with me tonight.”

Oh, hell no!

“I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

I laugh out loud, spinning around in my chair. “My work is done in the office or the court room. Rules are rules, and I’m not bending them for you.”

He scoots closer. I back my chair up.

“I’ll pay double your regular hourly rate,” he chides.

“I’m not a hooker, Mr. Holtz.” I’ve had other clients who have tested my patience—most of them do—but no one has ever come at me quite like this. I worked at a small firm right out of law school that took on petty criminals. Those cases we could make a few bucks on without having to do much discovery. Some of the men would stare at me, especially if they’d been in lock up for more than a few days. River Holtz is different. Power and money sway.

“Your husband told me you’re the best. I want the best, and I’m willing to pay for it,” he adds, softening his expression. His rebel-like good looks probably haven’t hurt either.

I can practically hear Cole telling him that on the phone…hear his voice. It boils up some of the memories from this morning, but I quickly bury them away.

“My husband is a smart man.”

“Prove it,” he says, obviously baiting me.

Cole is going to hear about this tonight. He’s knocked me so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even funny.

“Where and what time?” One side of his lips curl; he wins.

“I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“Ten?” I ask, almost falling out of my chair. Court starts at eight tomorrow.

“That’s what I said. He’ll meet us at 10:30 after the opening festivities.” I pass him a piece of paper and a pen.

“Write down the address. I’ll meet you there.”

“I said I’d pick you up,” refusing to take them from me.

“And, I’m meeting you halfway. I’ll go to the club with you, but I’m driving myself. Take it or leave it.”

Shaking his head, he grabs the pen. “He didn’t mention you were stubborn.”

“He didn’t tell me you were so difficult,” I hit back. He passes me back the pad of paper. The address is familiar, but it’s at least a half hour from my house.

Tomorrow is going to suck.

“Don’t be late,” he says as he stands. “Or you’ll see how difficult I can be.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Holtz. I have a client waiting.”

“Don’t you need me to sign some sort of a contract or something?” I force a smile, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Let’s see how tonight goes. I get to pick my clients the same way you get to pick your lawyer.” His thumb runs along his lower lip, drawing my attention.

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” I answer back, opening the door for him. If that isn’t enough of a hint, I don’t know what is. He reaches his hand out before crossing the threshold. I take it, reluctantly. He uses his strength to draw me in close—on the edge of too close.

“Wear something nice,” he whispers, his warm breath hitting my cheek.

Speechless, I watch him walk out the door still feeling where his fingers touched mine. I wonder if he noticed the waiting room is empty. I wonder if he felt my eyes on him the whole way out. I wonder a lot of things about River Holtz.

“Beatrice!” I shout from the doorway.

“Coming!” she yells back. Her smile falls when she sees my face. If stress were a spring trend, I’d be wearing it like Gisele.

“I need you to gather everything you can on Mr. Holtz. Everything.”

“Anything else?” she asks.

“Yeah, can you call Laurel and tell her I’m not going to make girls’ night?” She reaches forward as if she wants to take my temperature. Wine is my religion.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been better,” I say honestly. “Do you know when Cole’s plane lands?”

“He booked his own flight. Should I try calling him?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “No, he’s only been gone a couple of hours. He’s probably in the air. I’ll try him before lunch.”

“Good idea.”

As she walks away, I stand in the same spot watching her but not really seeing her. Life has never been this lonely. To an outsider, I have it all—the job, the husband, and the house—but inside I’m nearly empty. Hell, I’ve been running on these fumes for over a year.

I can’t go on much longer…not like this.

FIRST, I HAVE TO THANK the one person who made this—and ever other book I’ve written—possible: my husband, Michael. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the courage to keep at this, or the time. Thank you for everything you do to keep the household going while I’m “working”.

To my kids, I love you more than words can ever express. Thank you for understanding when Mommy has to work instead of play. It just makes every moment I get to spend with you that much better.