“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“Big bucks? When did you get a raise?”
She chuckled. “You should know since you’re the one who gave it to me.”
“Well, I can’t lose you or everyone will know that I don’t really have my shit together. It’s an illusion you created.”
Laughing, Cynthia and I walked out of my office and toward the largest conference room where the monthly staff meetings were held. Chairs were already filling up, so I snagged the end seat, facing the head of the table. Four seats sat empty there, presumably for the founding partners and the new senior partner.
The low buzz of conversation in the room faded away and, though my back was to the door, I knew that the partners had entered. I turned my head and watched as Milton Buck, Gerard Platt, and Marie Cairns walked around the table.
A tall, lean man followed them. I couldn’t see his face clearly but the arrogant tilt of his dark head set off an unsettling tremor in my fingers. His head turned and my breath caught when our eyes met.
It was him. Jordan Hawke.
I hadn’t seen him in two years. In fact, I was positive that I’d never see him again.
Now, he stood less than ten feet from me and there was every indication that he was the new senior partner in the firm.
My chest ached and I realized that it was because I was still holding my breath. With deliberate slowness, I inhaled deeply and slowly released it. I was intensely aware of my facial expression and did my best to hide the horrible, soul-shattering shock that filled me. On more than one occasion, my sister, Tessa, told me that I had the best damn poker face she’d ever seen.
I called upon every ounce of self-control I had to make it so this morning.
I realized that I was still staring at Jordan, and he at me, as Milton Buck spoke to the room. Dragging my eyes away from the icy blue of Jordan’s, I looked toward Milton, tuning into his words as I did so.
“…have a new senior partner. I’m sure many of you knew Jordan Hawke when he worked at Stern and Holtzman a few years ago before he moved to New York. Now, he’s back.”
I lost track of Milton’s speech as I felt the warm touch of Jordan’s eyes on me again. I knew without looking that he was still staring at me and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to fidget in my seat.
Somehow, I managed to sit through Milton’s announcement of his imminent retirement. His words barely processed in my whirling mind. I didn’t allow my gaze to wander back to Jordan as the meeting ended and we all left the conference room.
On shaky legs, I quickly made my way toward my office. Then I realized that the glass wall facing the hall would offer no privacy and veered toward the ladies’ room. Locking myself inside, I collapsed on the small bench next to the door and wrapped my arms around my waist.
The shock of seeing Jordan again, so unexpectedly, knocked me off balance. Brutally and completely. I had no idea how I would be able to get through the rest of the day, much less working with him indefinitely.
Rolling my head back, I rested my skull against the wall and stared at the ceiling while I concentrated on regulating my breathing. As my pounding heart began to slow, I decided to focus on getting through today. It was my only choice. I had work to do, clients depending on me. There wasn’t time to fall apart.
Once my work day was over, I would go home, dull my anxiety with a well-deserved bottle of wine, and figure out what my next move would be.
Somehow I madeit through the day. I stayed until nearly six, which was typical for me. It was doubtful anyone would notice if I changed my routine but pride wouldn’t allow me to vary.
I drove home on autopilot, stopping to grab a bottle of wine and dinner at the local supermarket. Sticking to habit, I changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt as soon as I got to my townhouse, then I gathered my dinner and carried it into the living room and turned on the television.
An hour later, most of the food sat untouched on my coffee table, but the wine bottle was nearly empty. I leaned back into the couch cushions, resting my bare feet on the edge of the coffee table, and stared at the wall above the TV. As I sipped the chilled white wine in my glass, I thought about Jordan Hawke.
Immediately I was thrown back in time, reliving the six months we were together as though they’d happened yesterday instead of two and a half years ago.
I’d taken on a client and set up a meeting with her husband’s attorney. Both parties seemed angry and bitter, but neither wanted the time and expense required to duke it out in court.
Jordan Hawke had represented my client’s soon-to-be-ex-husband. From the moment we met, the sexual tension between us had been off the charts. So strong in fact that I’d been determined to keep my distance from him. I didn’t need a man messing up my plans for the future or distracting me from my goals. Even if it meant giving up what promised to be insanely great sex.
After our first date and an explosive first kiss, I’d decided that a fling wasn’t such a horrible thing after all. I’d honestly thought that the intense passion between us would inevitably fizzle out within a month, maybe two. How wrong I’d been.
For six months, I spent nearly every night with Jordan Hawke. The sex was incredible. The best I’d ever had. Which was why I didn’t put up a fight when he insisted on taking me to dinner or out to the movies, despite our original agreement to keep our entanglement purely physical. Blinded by hormones and mind-scrambling orgasms, I hadn’t noticed when my defenses shifted on their foundation, leaving my heart unprotected.
I’d fallen in love with him and hadn’t realized it until he told me that he was leaving for New York and the offer of a dream job. Still, I never mentioned it. Never told him how I felt.
Jordan crushed my heart to dust when he left.
He never knew.
If I had my way, he never would.
