“Hi.” I glanced around the reception area with its comfortable chairs, polished maple table that used to be my Nonna’s, and coat rack by the door. “What smells like vanilla?”
Oliver sighed, sounding as put out as a healthy eighteen year old could. “Pauley is trying different scents to see how they impact client behavior. There are candles in all the offices, and I made him take the one off my desk.”
“At least he’s finished making us experiment with lunch,” I whispered. Never again would I even think of eating a deconstructed sushi taco. Just thinking about it made my stomach gurgle, and not with happiness. I removed my long green coat to hang on the tree next to Clark’s overcoat.
Raised voices immediately caught my attention.
“I don’t give two hoots about that, Clark,” a female voice hissed.
I paused and looked at Oliver, my eyebrows hitting my hairline.
“Now, Brooke. Come on.” Clark’s mellow voice rolled out of his office.
“I’m just going to smack you,” Brooke yelled.
Oh, heck no. Nobody hit my law partner. I hustled past the reception area and turned immediately left into Clark’s office. “Hi there. What’s going on?”
A dark-haired beauty swung to face me. Deep brown eyes, thick black hair to her shoulders, pink color high on her brown skin. “You must be Anna.”
“I really must be,” I murmured as Clark stood from the other side of his wooden desk. His space was decidedly masculine with his diplomas on the wall, darker wood accents, and the window shades open to reveal a bunch of trees and the brick building next door. Even the vanilla scented candle burning on the credenza behind him didn’t mess with the male vibe. “You are?” I kept my voice polite. Mostly.
Clark wore a blue polo shirt with casual slacks, apparently not having court today. “Anna, this is Brooke Walton, my, um, friend. Brooke, this is Anna Albertini, my law partner.”
Brooke whipped her head up. “Friend? Friend? We’re dating.”
Clark cleared his throat. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to be exclusive.”
I blinked. “Hi.” Walton? “Any relation to Gloria Walton?”
“Yes.” Brooke took my hand in a firm grip. One that she squeezed. “Your grandmother messed with my aunt’s pie.”
Just wonderful. I tugged free and glanced at my partner. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.” Sans the girlfriend designation, apparently.
Brooke’s chin lowered. Oops. I lifted a hand. “We don’t really talk about our personal lives.” Although, I thought Clark kind of dated around. He’d offered to go exclusive, and she’d said no? Who would say no to Clark?
Clark swallowed, eyeing us both. His skin was a dark brown, his eyes an intelligent brown, and his posture solid. He’d shaved his head again, making him look tough, even in the golf clothing. “We’ve been dating for a while, and I’ve assured her that Nana wouldn’t ever sabotage somebody’s pie.”
Yeah, Clark and Nana were tight. They’d first met when she’d smudged him after he’d ended up with cremated remains all over him, which was totally not my fault. Well, mostly. Clark had then become my uncle Sean’s golf partner, and Clark was pretty much family now until the end of time.
I cleared my throat. “Gloria sued Nana, and I’ve already taken the case, Clark. My plan is to draft the Answer to the Complaint this afternoon.”
Brooke inhaled through her nose, widening her nostrils, still looking stunning. She wore a pink sweater with tight jeans and spectacular brown boots. If she wasn’t glaring at me, I’d study the boots a bit more and then ask her where she’d purchased them. Instead, I held my stance.
“That is unacceptable,” Brooke spat.
Ah. Well, okay. They couldn’t have been dating long, because even I knew how stubborn Clark could be.
“We’ve already taken the case,” he said smoothly.
“I’ll get to work on the Answer.” I knew when to get the heck out of a room.
Clark didn’t ask me to stay, but he did say my name right when I’d hit the hallway.
I partially turned. “Yeah?”
“Your cousin Rory brought you a new desk. He and Vince took out the old one.”
Interesting. Rory enjoyed carving new furniture and rehabbing old finds when he wasn’t working as a spy. Maybe. I wasn’t sure where he actually worked. “What was wrong with my desk?”
