I walk anxiously toward the glass conference room, which sits like a fishbowl in the middle of the office. James waits in the chair at the head of the table. His face remains impassive, though his stare unwinds me.
I’m determined to keep it together, to prove I can hold my own. His presence makes that nearly impossible.
“Good morning, James,” I greet him and take the seat to his right, keeping my office and my team in view.
“Morning, Anders,” he replies, giving me a curt nod.
Being called by my last name takes me back to playing sports in high school, making me feel like I’m part of a team again. It feels good.
“I trust your team is making you feel at home.”
I tense at the reminder of last night. “Uh, yeah. You could say that,” I reply with a tight smile.
“And you’ve had the opportunity to do a cursory review of your cases?” he asks as he opens his laptop and begins to type.
“Yes, sir.” It slips out before I can even think about it, a reflex of my southern upbringing.
His fingers, which were just feverishly moving across the keyboard, stop abruptly and contract, balling his hands into fists before flexing back out to resume typing. He clears his throat.
“You’ll want to prioritize cases with trial dates coming up. Also, take note of any cases with depositions or mediations scheduled. I checked your calendar this morning, and you’ll be defending a depo a week from today. You will also need to file a motion to compel in the Fitzroy case.”
He finally raises his eyes to look at me, and my breath hitches.Everything about him is maddeningly perfect, from the way his suit fits like a second skin to the effortless confidenceexuded in even the subtlest gestures. How is it possible for a man to be this handsome?
My cheeks flush with warmth, and panic flares at the thought of him recognizing my attraction, the way his presence leaves me breathless and unmoored. Thank God he mistakes my reaction as nervousness and not for what it really was.
“Don’t worry. I’m not throwing you to the wolves just yet,” he starts, but I interrupt.
“I can handle it,” I try to say confidently.
He leans back, considering me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. The scent of his cologne lingers, blurring my focus. It distracts me. Unsettles me.
“I know you can,” he says, his tone both a dare and a compliment.
His words make me sit taller.
“Just know that I’m available if you have any questions. You can ask me anything.”
“Thanks,” I say, as I gather my pen and notepad and head toward the door. “I’ll have those motions ready for your review by the end of the week.”
With my hand on the gold metal handle, I pause and turn back to him.
“What’s your favorite color?”
He swivels his chair slightly to face me, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I don’t have one.” He starts to turn around but hesitates.
Looking back at me with a curious tilt of his head, he says, “Why do you ask?”
“You said I could ask you anything,” I say with a smile.
He nods, returning the smile. “So I did.”
I close the conference room door behind me, determined to return to my office and focus only on work.
Not men.
Definitely not men I work with.
***
