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It’s at that moment that a man in his mid-forties, with dark hair speckled with gray, joins us and we turn to face him. “Cole Brooks,” he says. “I’m Nash Burns.”
“As in the expert pathologist who keeps turning me down?” Cole asks.
He laughs. “Not by choice. To this point, you’ve asked for my time when I’m booked solid.” He eyes me. “Is this your lovely wife?”
I feel my heart sink to my feet. Cole and I haven’t touched but we’ve been in deep conversation and often. We have chemistry. We’re obvious, as Cat said. I mean, my God, we were just standing at this table alone, in deep, intimate conversation.
“This would be Ms. Lori Havens,” Cole replies, “a rising star in the legal field you’ll want to know and know well. A recipient of the Merrick scholarship, I’m mentoring her, and she’ll be working on my upcoming cases with me.”
Nash holds up his hands. “Apologies, Ms. Havens,” he says. “I assumed for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps, simply because you’re lovely and I thought him a lucky man to have you by his side all night. Please don’t hesitate to call me should you need my services.” He offers me his card and quickly departs.
“Do not read into that,” Cole says, facing me now, his voice low. “No one else in this room has seen beyond our working relationship.”
“Or they didn’t say it, and he did,” I say. “I need a minute to breathe,” I say, and start walking, weaving through the crowd until I’m standing at the coffee pots filling a cup. I don’t really want it. I just need to do something that gives me a moment alone to think. I’m with Cole. We can’t stay away from each other. I work here. These are the pieces of a puzzle I must fit together in a cohesive way, and I don’t know how.
Cole steps to my side. “Come with me,” he says again.
I set the cup down and turn to face him. “I don’t think it’s smart for us to walk out alone together.”
“That wasn’t a question, Lori,” he says, his voice tight, with an undertone of unmistakable anger. “This is me, your boss, telling you to come with me now.”
“We can’t walk out of this room alone together,” I repeat.
He narrows his eyes on me, his voice hardening, the whip of anger in his energy. “We can, and we will, because a) we have a client in need that comes before this party, and b) I’m your boss and that was a work directive, not a request. I’m going to take care of my client. You need to decide if my client is your client.” He turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow, or maybe he doesn’t.
I quickly step to his side, but I don’t speak. I was wrong in my reaction just now. I let personal feelings dictate my response, not business, and I could blame Lance’s appearance, but any excuse is unacceptable. I need to say that to him when we’re alone. “What are we doing?” I ask.
“Our jobs,” he says, motioning to Reese, who meets us at the door. “I have a high-profile client with law enforcement breathing down her throat. I’m going to my office to deal with it.”
“We’re winding down anyway,” Reese says. “I can handle this here. Let me know if you need me.”
Cole nods and opens the door, allowing me to exit first, and it’s only moments later that we step inside the elevator, where he punches the call button, but he doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t look at me. He’s angry. I let the personal side of things affect my job. He said he would not be easy on me. I don’t want him to be easy on me. The doors shut and he sends a text message and by the time he’s done, we’re two floors up. The doors once again part and I step outside.
Still Cole doesn’t speak. We enter the main offices, and he flips on the lights. “My office,” he says, and that’s all. We walk together, side-by-side, and the silence continues. Finally, we are at his office, though I’m not even sure why this is a relief. It just is. He opens the door, flips on that light, and gives me room to enter. And I really don’t know what to expect next.
I step inside.
“Shut the door,” he orders, following me into the room, and crossing to his desk.
This time I do as I’m told without question. I shut the door and when I turn around, Cole is still standing, his fists pressed to the desk, clearly waiting on me. I cross the room, him watching my every step with those penetrating, unreadable blue eyes. I could sit, but I choose to stop between the two visitor’s chairs directly in front of him. And now, I’m waiting on him. Now, it’s his move.
Chapter thirty
Cole
Lori and I stand across from each other at my desk with no more than five minutes to spare before the line on my desk phone rings with a client update. I spent thirty seconds of that time staring at her, unfamiliar, barely contained anger, pulsing through me that may or may not have everything to do with her walking away from me at the party. Apparently, being called my wife after seeing her ex was disturbing enough that she forgot she was actually at the party to do a job. Or maybe it was the fucking orgasm I gave her right before she saw her ex.
“Do you love him?” I ask, because her answer defines how I move forward, how we move forward.
She blanches. “What?”
“Do you love him?”
“God no.” She steps forward and presses her hands on the desk, leaning in closer to me. “No, Cole. I do not, nor have I ever, loved Lance.”
“Then why do you hate him so much?”
“You just asked if I love him,” she counters.
