When we “accidentally” ran into each other and he first raised his gaze to me, my girlie parts nearly rolled over and sighed at the light green of his eyes staring at me in apology. Framed by the thickest, darkest lashes, they finished off his sex appeal with a flourish.

“You need an orgasm . . . maybe two.”

“What?” I exclaim, wondering if Ford can read my thoughts about Reeve.

His palms are resting calmly on the armrests of the leather chair, and he has one leg crossed casually over the other as he smiles at me. “You need an orgasm or two. I can tell by the pinched look on your face, which isn’t very attractive, by the way.”

I immediately lessen my frown, roll my eyes at him, and turn back to my screen. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Let’s go. I’ll take you out to dinner, and then we’ll go to your place. I’ll have a smile on your face in no time. Then you can return the favor.”

“Not tonight,” I say absently as I stare at the computer and try to refocus on the research.

“Okay, who is he?” Ford asks curiously.

My eyes fly back to his, and I try for my most innocent look. “What do you mean?”

“Whoever has you in a knot,” he says with a knowing look. “You’ve never turned me down before unless you were involved with someone. That’s the only thing that would have you turning your nose up at the magic my lips can work on you.”

Sighing, I push back from my desk again and rub the bridge of my nose. Not only does Ford know me well, he’s also my closest friend. While we might indulge in pleasure with each other, there’s also a mutual care and trust that’s been fortified over the years. Besides that, neither one of us has a jealous bone in our bodies, and we’ve always stepped out of the picture if one of us wants to pursue someone else.

“It’s that attorney I had the motion against,” I admit.

One of Ford’s eyebrows arches high with skepticism. “You won the motion. How can that still be bothering you? Your temper doesn’t work that way. Once it blows and you purge it, you’re cool as a cucumber again.”

Yup . . . see . . . Ford knows me as well as I know myself.

“It’s not the motion. It’s what happened before and after.”

Leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees, his eyes light up with curiosity. “Oh, do tell.”

“Well . . . I timed my arrival to the courthouse at the same time as him, and when we were alone in the elevator, I got this wild idea. So I sort of performed a tiny striptease in front of him.”

“You did what?” Ford asks as he rears back in his chair.

“Relax,” I tell him with a laugh. “I just changed one of my stockings that had a run in it. He didn’t get much more than a flash of lace.”

Ford stares at me, mouth slightly agape. His eyes have a slight look of censure.

“Stop looking at me that way,” I chide him. “I wanted to see how he’d react. Get a read on what type of man he was.”

“And exactly what did you learn?” he asks, his tone now intrigued.

“He didn’t do anything. Just watched me. Although he finally found his voice when I got out on a different floor. Asked for my name, but I didn’t give it to him. He had no clue who I was, and I wanted him to be shocked when I walked into the courtroom.”

Ford shakes his head back and forth as he leans back in his chair again. “What did he do when you walked into the courtroom?”

“No clue,” I tell him honestly. “I didn’t make eye contact. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t worth my time.”

“But that’s not all that happened?” Ford guesses.

Standing up from my desk, I walk around it and take the chair that sits next to Ford. Turning slightly so I’m facing him, I cross one leg over the other, gently swinging my foot. Leaning toward him conspiratorially, I tell him, “We had a moment in the hallway . . . after the hearing.”

“A moment?”

“A moment. I goaded him, pretty much called him a pansy ass for the way he did nothing in the elevator, and I guess he didn’t take kindly to it. He pushed me up against the wall and told me he wanted to see if my panties matched my silk stockings and garters.”

“Are you fucking serious? He attacked you?” Ford growls.

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was all sexy slow. Seductive. He was proving to me that he could do something about it if he wanted.”

Ford stares at me quietly and his face is impassive. Finally he asks, “Did you ask him to stop?”

Odd, that tone of voice he’s using on me. I would expect him to be a little protective, but it smacks of jealousy.

“No, I didn’t ask him to stop. I wanted to see how far he’d take it. I wanted to know exactly what type of opponent I’m dealing with.”

“Bullshit, Leary,” Ford says in a rush. “You liked it, plain and simple. You like him.”

“I absolutely do not like him,” I argue, but then because I’m always honest with Ford, I tell him, “but I did like what he did. I liked that confidence, that ego. But that’s all there was to it. Even if I wanted to check this guy out some more, it’s impossible. We’re on opposing sides of the case. It’s unethical.”

Sighing heavily, Ford looks at me a moment more, then smiles softly. “So, I’m definitely not going to be giving you an orgasm tonight?”

Ordinarily, that would be lovely. A quiet dinner with Ford where he’d make me laugh, and then his mouth on me all night. But for some reason, I’m not into it. At least not tonight.

“Rain check? Okay? I have a lot of work to do tonight, and I’m looking forward to a quiet night alone after that.”

Slapping his palms on his thighs, Ford gives me an understanding smile and then stands up. “Sure. I’ll catch you later.”

I watch as he leaves, and wait for something to flash through me where I change my mind and tell him that I want to see him tonight.

But it never comes.

Fortifying myself with determination, I make my way back to my computer and the legal research that’s not going to do itself.

“Miss Michaels?” I hear hesitantly from my office doorway.

I glance up from the deposition transcript I’m reviewing and see one of our runners, a young girl who just started college and is working for our firm for the fall semester. She wants to go to law school eventually and—like a lot of the young people who work here—has grand aspirations of joining the team of Knight & Payne one day. Until that day, they start at the bottom, running errands back and forth between the lawyers and the courthouse.

“Hi, Keri. What’s up?”

“You had a hand-delivered package up at the front desk,” she says as she steps into my office, “and they asked me to bring it back to you. It says, ‘personal and confidential,’ so it didn’t go through the mail room.”

“Thanks,” I say as I take the box from her and set it on the middle of my desk.

“No problem. Have a great evening,” she says before leaving.

“You, too,” I murmur, but I don’t look back at her. I’m staring at the box and the big white label that shows a return address of Battle, Carnes, and Pearson.

Reeve’s firm.

My skin tingles with awareness and my heart beats faster. What in the hell could that firm have sent me that’s personal and confidential?

No, not “that firm.”

Reeve Holloway.

No doubt in my mind that this is from him.

Pulling a pair of scissors out of my drawer, I cut along the securely taped seams. The box isn’t very big, maybe only a foot by a foot and about six inches deep. My curiosity is on overdrive.

When I finally cut my way through the tape and pull the flaps back, I immediately see a cover letter on top of a stack of documents—the Battle Carnes logo prominent, top and center. Beneath the stack of documents is a small white envelope that looks like it holds a card, as well as a smaller box wrapped in glossy white paper.