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Recess is called after I leave the floor. I head to the back of the courthouse, out the private exit, and I do what I do at breaks. I make a path to the side door, step outside and plan to think through what comes next. The assistant DA, Carrie Monroe, a pretty blonde with an attitude, and legs that go on forever, is waiting on me. I know this specific detail of her legs because we’ve been friends with benefits on occasion. “You did good in there. We should celebrate tonight.”
A woman who knows how to just fuck and move on with no strings attached should be a definitive “yes,” a way to get Lori out of my head. I wait for the familiar stir of lust, and it doesn’t come.
“Not tonight.”
“When then?” she persists. “You’re moving.”
“I’m focused on this case with plans to be on a plane to New York City the day after it ends.”
She blanches. “Wait. Are you saying goodbye now?”
“I am.”
“Okay. Huh. Well I don’t know what to say.” She purses her lips. “Fine. You were still sexy as hell in there, Cole. I love watching you. I’ll just do it from afar.” She closes the space between us and kisses my cheek. “Good luck, but you won’t need it. You always win.” She leaves then, and holy hell. I’m not sorry. I wouldn’t have said no to Carrie before that night in New York with Lori. What kind of wicked spell am I under?
Chapter sixteen
Cole
Two weeks later…
Isit on a private jet waiting for take-off on my way to New York, my MacBook fired up with the headlines: Cole Brooks wins again with his client exonerated of the murder of his wife. Hotshot Brooks cornered the victim’s business partner on the stand, caught him in a lie, and hammered him into a dramatic confession.
That’s the way to leave Houston with a bang, I think, flipping to a new screen and pulling up the digital contract that officially merges my firm with a New York firm run by a close friend, and the best damn attorney I know, next to me, of course. I shut the lid to my MacBook and my cell phone rings. I glance down and find my new partner, and oldest friend’s number on the caller ID. “Reese Summer,” I say. “Or is it partner now?”
“Partner it is,” he says. “You got the executive contracts, I assume?”
“I did and I’m on the plane now waiting for take-off.”
“Is your apartment ready? I know your remodel got dicey.”
“The movers left days ago and my assistant, or rather ex-assistant considering, she is on a plane to Paris right now, assures me that the key is waiting for me and I’m ready to move in tonight.”
“It’s Wednesday. We’ll see you Friday night at the office for the client meet-and-greet?”
“You’ll see me tomorrow. I have work to do. I need to get my staff in order by Monday. I’ll check in when I land.” We disconnect and the plane’s engines roar to life.
The restraints my father placed on our growth are gone, and a chapter of my life ends and a new one begins. New York is where I belong now. Funny thing is I wasn’t sure I believed that until it welcomed me in an extra special way.
I pull the note Lori left me from my pocket and read it again: Hello and everything that followed was perfect. I didn’t want to ruin perfect with a bad goodbye. My lips curve. The thing about coming off a win for me is it’s like a conquest that makes me really want another. And her name is Lori. At least, that’s what she told me.
Lori
After hours of trying to track down leads for her book, with her deadline approaching, and another new book on the horizon, Cat and I are on her living room floor, both in jeans and socked feet with a box of chocolate between us. It’s an empty box of chocolate since she’s worried about her book and I’m worried about why I haven’t heard any news on the outcome of my interview. “How’s your mom?” Cat asks.
“Dating,” I say. “I think. I don’t know. She said she met someone.” I roll to my side to face her. “Why haven’t I heard anything?”
She rolls to face me as well and doesn’t ask what I’m talking about. She knows. “You’ll hear soon.”
“Just knowing I’m not out of the running would be nice,” I say. “When I left I felt good. There were six of them in the interview.”
“You said you do well in groups. You’re a trial attorney. Of course you do.”
“I’m not a trial attorney yet,” I remind her.
“You connected with Judge Griffin, the lead decision maker,” she reminds me. “That is huge and—I think you might be getting some news soon.”
I sit up. “What do you know?”
