Текст книги "Practice Makes Perfect"
Автор книги: Julie James
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“And here I was worried that he might say something that would make this awkward,” she said. “Thank god we dodged that bullet.”
J.D. ignored her sarcasm. “He calls you to say good night? How serious are you two?” he demanded to know.
Payton pushed past him, slid down from the counter, and began buttoning up her shirt. “That’s the part of his message you have a problem with? That he called me to say good night?”
“Oh, am I supposed to respond to the accusations your boyfriend made against me? Fine—here’s my response: he’s fucking full of shit.”
Payton nodded as she smoothed down her skirt. “Perhaps not your most eloquent response, but I’ll give you points for directness.”
With a confused look, J.D. watched as she pulled herself together. “Wait—what’s going on here? You’re not actually buying into what Chase said, are you?”
“No.” Not really, she almost added, but stopped herself.
Should she be suspicious of J.D.? Until Chase had left his message, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to Payton that J.D. might have some hidden agenda that night. True, she was due in court very early tomorrow morning, but so what? What was she supposed to think, that this was all some elaborate seduction scheme to get into her apartment, and—what?—set her alarm clock back an hour so that she’d miss her motion call? Now that was a ridiculous thought.
Wasn’t it?
Come to think of it . . . the guy had snuck into her office, then sliced off and re-glued her heel so that she’d fall and embarrass herself in court. But they were past that now. Weren’t they?
“Well, it’s obvious that Chase’s message changed something,” J.D. said.
Payton finished buttoning her shirt and turned around. “This is all just so complicated.”
“Because of Chase?”
“Because of lots of things,” Payton said. “Because I need to be in court early tomorrow morning. Because of our history. Because of the fact that I should be focusing on work right now, and because, ironically, you are the reason I should be focusing on work right now.” She paused. “I’d just like to be alone to think things through.”
J.D. nodded, and Payton could see he was angry.
“Fine,” he said tersely. He walked over, picked his jacket up off the floor, and headed to the front door.
As confused as she was, Payton hated for them to end the evening on such a bad note. “J.D., wait,” she called after him.
He turned around in the doorway. “This is the second time you’ve thrown me out of your apartment. If you change your mind about things, you know where you can find me.”
And with that, he was gone.
Payton stood there for a moment after he left. Then she picked up her briefcase and headed off to her bedroom.
An hour later, she fell asleep with her work piled around her and alone.
Twenty
ONE WEEK LEFT.
A mere seven days.
Payton entered the final stretch of her eight-year quest to join the prestigious elite of those fortunate few Ripley & Davis lawyers who had been elevated to the rank of partner by keeping two promises she had recently made.
First, she won her trial—thereby upholding her vow to the jury during her opening statement that she was certain that after hearing all the evidence, they would find her client not liable for sexual harassment.
As was tradition whenever one of the litigation attorneys had a trial victory, when she got back to the office after court the other members of the group dropped by her office to offer her their congratulations. All except J.D., that is.
He stayed in his office the entire afternoon, with the door shut.
“What’s gotten into him?” Irma asked when she stopped by on her way out, with a nod in the direction of J.D.’s office. “Are you two fighting again?”
“I don’t think he’s talking to m—” Payton stopped, having caught the implication of Irma’s question. “What do you mean, are we fighting again?” She and J.D. had always been so careful not to air their disputes in public.
Irma threw her a look. “The administrative staff is the eyes and ears of this institution, Payton. We know everything.”
Payton sat upright in her chair. “You talk about us?”
Irma shrugged unconcernedly. “Yes.”
Payton folded her arms across her chest. “Well. And what do you say?”
“Mostly now we talk about you two battling it out for partner.”
“You know about that?”
Again, Irma shrugged unconcernedly. “Yes. We even have a betting pool on which one of you will make it.”
Payton’s mouth dropped open, shocked to find her arduous career struggles the subject of tacky, meaningless office gossip.
“I can’t believe you’re participating in this, Irma. It’s so distasteful. Who’s ahead in the pool?”
“It’s pretty much falling along gender lines.”
Payton smiled with satisfaction. “So I’m in the lead then. There’s—what—like two male secretaries in the entire firm?”
“Well, some of the junior associates are in the pool as well. And by some, I mean all of them.”
Payton rolled her eyes. “I suppose all the partners, too?”
“Strangely, no,” Irma mused. “None of the partners seem to know anything about you and J.D. not getting along.”
Payton scoffed at this. “It’s not so strange, really. Half the partners here don’t seem to know anything unless it’s spelled out in a memo some poor associate had to sacrifice her entire weekend drafting.”
Now it was Irma’s turn to be surprised. “That sounded awfully disgruntled for you.” She nodded approvingly. “I like it.” With a wink, she turned and left.
Payton sighed. Note to self: bite tongue more frequently.
And find out which junior associates had the audacity to bet on J.D.
If it was Brandon, she’d kill the kid.
THE SECOND PROMISE Payton kept was the one she had made to Chase, that they would sit down and talk as soon as her trial was over. The sit-down took place at Chase’s apartment, but the talking was mostly on Payton’s end.
Chase took the breakup well. He even laughed when Payton said she had his best interests in mind just as much as hers, seeing how she was thoroughly convinced she was far too difficult a person to ever make him anything other than utterly miserable.
In truth, any thoughts she still may have held that things could work with Chase pretty much ended the moment she kissed J.D. She had no idea what was happening between them lately, but clearly (as evidenced by their little tryst on her kitchen counter) she had no business dating anyone else until she figured it out.
The next day at work, she was on her way to see Laney to deliver the bad news that, alas, the Perfect Chase was no more, when she heard J.D.’s voice calling her name. She turned around and saw him halfway down the hallway, approaching her.
“Ben asked to see both of us, right away if possible,” J.D. said. “Apparently there’s been some development in the Gibson’s matter.”
Without further word, he coolly breezed past her and continued along the hallway to Ben’s office.
Payton followed behind him, making no attempt to catch up. If that’s the kind of game he wanted to play, so be it. The two of them walked the entire way in silence.
When they got to Ben’s office, they found him on the phone. He signaled that he was wrapping things up and gestured for them to wait outside. J.D. walked to the window at the end of the hall, turned his back to Payton, and checked out the view outside as he continued his silent treatment.
Payton was tempted at first to simply ignore him, but then she changed her mind. J.D. was beginning to seriously piss her off and she had every intention of letting him know that. She briskly walked up to him.
“Are you really not talking to me?” She kept her voice low, so that they wouldn’t be overheard.
J.D. glanced sideways at her. “I’m just giving you your space, Payton.” He turned back to the window.
“You’re being an ass.”
“And you’re playing games. How’s Chase these days?” he asked sarcastically.
“Fine, I guess. Chase and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
J.D. turned around to face her. “You broke up with him?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Payton told him. “Contrary to what you apparently think, I don’t like to play games with people. And by the way, you have a lot of nerve accusing me of playing games when you’re the one giving me the silent treatment. Which reminds me, thanks for being the only person in our group not to congratulate me on winning my trial. Your actions lead me to believe that either (a) you felt awkward congratulating me, given that we are in competition with each other—in which case you can’t possibly fault me for similarly struggling with the complications of our situation the other night, or (b) you were simply being a stubborn, spiteful jerk, in which case I’m not sure I’d want to be in your company anyway. Either way, if you’re waiting for some big apology from me for asking you to leave the other night, you’re going to be waiting a very, very long time because, as you see, clearly I was in the right.” Payton put her hand on her hip defiantly. So there.
J.D. stared at her for a moment with that “amused” look on his face. “You really are an amazing lawyer, Payton,” he said.
She poked him in the chest. “Don’t try to flatter me now, Jameson.”
He grinned. “You’re angry with me again.”
“I think this situation is difficult enough without you making it any more difficult.”
This seemed to strike a chord with him. “Fair enough. Maybe I should make it up to you, then. What would you say—hypothetically speaking, of course—if I asked you out to dinner to celebrate your trial win?”
Payton hesitated. Not because she wasn’t tempted by his offer, or quasi-offer. Quite the opposite, actually.
“Hypothetically speaking, I’m not sure I trust myself around you,” she said. She could tell J.D. liked that answer.
He bent his head, lowering his voice further still. “Why? What are you afraid might happen if we’re alone? Hypothetically speaking.”
It was a dangerous game for them to be flirting in the office like this. Strangely, however, Payton wasn’t sure she cared about the office right then. Sure, J.D. pissed her off like no one else could. But when he gave her that look, that look that was bold and intimate, but also slightly cautious—as if he was waiting and gauging her every move—she felt thrills of anticipation at the thought of where their little intrigue might go next.
So she leaned in, her smile blatantly coy. “Hypothetically speaking, I’m afraid I might—”
“There you two are! Sorry about that, I got stuck on a Rule 26(f) conference that ran a little longer than expected.”
Interrupted by the sound of Ben’s voice, Payton and J.D. looked over and saw him standing in his doorway.
“Shall we?” Ben gestured for them to join him in his office.
J.D. caught Payton’s eye as they headed inside, seeming to find Ben’s interruption as inconvenient as she. They had barely taken their seats in front of the desk when Ben got right down to business.
“So I got a call from Jasper this morning,” he began. “Apparently they’ve had a little shake-up in the Gibson’s legal department. He fired the general counsel—probably a smart move since the guy obviously didn’t do a very good job of preventing this mess they’re in. The new GC started on Monday and, not surprisingly, is eager to meet with some of the people at our firm who will be working on the case. Jasper specifically asked whether either—or both—of you might possibly be free to fly down tomorrow for a meet and greet with him and the new general counsel. He acknowledged that this was short notice, but said he thought that since tomorrow is Friday, there was a chance the two of you might be free in the evening from your other work commitments.”
Ben cleared his throat. “Obviously, Jasper isn’t aware of the situation here, that one of you will not be continuing on in this matter. And I think it’s best that he not be made aware of that fact until the partnership decision has been announced.” Leaning back in his chair, he sighed melodramatically. “Given the circumstances, I find it a little awkward to ask you two to do this. Although, with the decision being this close—”
“I’ll go,” J.D. said.
Ben stopped and looked over. He appeared pleased by the definitiveness with which J.D. had responded. “Good.” He nodded his approval, then turned. “What do you say, Payton?”
She could feel J.D.’s eyes on her as she answered.
“I’ll go, too.”
Ben smiled. “Great. I’ll call Jasper and let him know to expect you both.” He glanced over at J.D. “You get there early enough, Jameson, you might even be able to squeeze in a round. Palm Beach has some great courses. I think the last time I was there was over three years ago. We went in May and it was nearly ninety degrees. And humid as all hell.” He pointed. “You two better prepare yourselves. It’s going to be a hot and steamy trip.”
It took every ounce of Payton’s strength not to react to that.
Twenty-one
THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT set Payton’s meal down in front of her.
“And one vegetarian entree for you,” she said efficiently before turning to serve lunch to the passengers across the aisle.
Seated next to Payton, J.D. didn’t even bother to look up from his Wall Street Journal.
“Vegetarian? Now there’s a surprise.”
“About as surprising as you turning first to the financial section of the paper.”
J.D. shrugged. “So? I have a few investments.”
“I have investments. You have a portfolio,” Payton emphasized.
J.D. felt the need to set the record straight. He put down his paper and turned in his seat to face her.
“Payton, I have to tell you something, and I know this is going to come as a shock, but it’s better you hear it now.” He leaned in consolingly. “You have money.” He shook his head. What a shame.
Payton waved this off. “Please. You have money. I have a job that pays well. There’s a difference.”
“We make the same exact salary.”
“But you have an extravagant lifestyle.”
J.D. laughed at that. Did he now? Maybe in her eyes, he supposed. She was a walking contradiction and completely oblivious to that fact.
“You have five-hundred-dollar shoes,” he pointed out.
“Not anymore.”
J.D. cleared his throat. Probably best if they just moved on to another topic.
He watched as Payton picked at her sandwich, some sprouty/all-natural/no-taste concoction. Since they were flying business class, they had seats together, just the two of them. They could talk about anything and not be overheard, although so far Payton’s conversation with him throughout the flight had consisted entirely of business-related talk and/or sass. Perhaps it was time to shake things up.
“So . . . you didn’t say why you broke up with Chase.”
“You’re right, I didn’t say.”
“Are you avoiding the subject?”
Payton put her sandwich down and turned to face him. “Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”
Realizing he really needed to refine his subject-changing skills, J.D. struck a nonchalant look. “What about me?”
“Well, you’re thirty-two years old—”
“The same age as you.”
“—and still single,” she finished. “Aren’t you supposed to be married by now to a Muffy or a Bitsy or some other society type with a brain as big as this pickle?”
J.D. peered over. “That’s a pretty big pickle.”
Payton smiled. “So? What gives?”
J.D. couldn’t help but look as, while waiting for his answer, Payton crossed one high-heeled leg over the other, notably in his direction. Did she know the effect she had on him? He suspected she did. It was a little dance they did, the way they both conspicuously avoided talking about what had happened in her apartment the other night. He had a feeling that there was more behind her “innocent” questions regarding his love life than she wanted to let on. But he had no intention of cutting the game short. Not yet, anyway.
Seeing that she still waited for his answer, J.D. shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been focused on things at work.” He watched as Payton nodded. This she could understand.
Now that the subject of work had been raised, the conversation drifted onto a safer topic: their upcoming meeting with Jasper and his new general counsel. In appreciation of the fact that Payton and J.D. had agreed to fly down to Florida on such short notice, Jasper had suggested, for their convenience, that they meet for dinner at their hotel. J.D. could certainly think of worse places to spend a Friday evening than at the Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach. Putting aside all partnership/career advancement issues, one of the main reasons he had so quickly agreed to the trip was because he knew Payton similarly would never pass up the opportunity.
Payton asked him what information, if any, he had been able to uncover about the lawyer Jasper had hired to be Gibson’s new general counsel. J.D. reached into his briefcase for the file he had thrown together earlier that morning when he stopped at the office before heading off to the airport.
Strangely, he discovered something in his briefcase that he had not put there.
A book.
Confused—and with the momentary thought that he was going to be really fucking pissed if this was some sort of South Florida drug-mule scam that would land him in jail and cut into his posh Ritz-Carlton relaxation time—J.D. pulled out the book.
Pride and Prejudice.
It bore a Post-it note, unsigned, that read:
In case of an emergency. Trust me.
J.D. rolled his eyes. Oh, for crying out loud. He had told Tyler about the trip with Payton and his “helpful” friend must have slipped the book into his carry-on when he’d stepped out of his office.
Just as he was about to stuff the silly girly tome back into his briefcase, Payton glanced over.
“Oh, you brought a book? What are you reading?” She leaned over, saw the title, then peered up at J.D. with an expression of unmistakable surprise. “Pride and Prejudice? Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that was your kind of book.”
J.D. immediately went on the defensive. “Come on, do you really think . . .” His words trailed off as Payton leaned back languidly in her seat with a dreamy, faraway look.
“Mr. Darcy . . .” She sighed wistfully. She distractedly put her pen in her mouth—J.D. noticed a little flush to her cheeks—and without even realizing it, she slowly slid the pen in and out between her lips.
In and out.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy and his ten thousand a year . . .” she said, still dreamy.
J.D. had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn’t help but stare. The pen. The lips. In and out.
In and out.
Tyler was a fucking genius.
With a blink, Payton came out of her reverie. Most unfortunately.
“Sorry. What were we talking about?” she asked, a little breathless.
Clearing his throat, J.D. held up the book. “Pride and Prejudice?”
Payton smiled fondly. “Yes. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I caught that. Gotta love that”—J.D. quickly stole a glance at the back cover—“Elizabeth Bennet.”
This seemed to wake Payton up. “Well, of course,” she said, not unlike Tyler, as if only a Neanderthal wouldn’t be in the know. “Elizabeth Bennet is only one of the greatest literary heroines of all time.”
J.D. could see she was beginning to get all riled up and lecture-y again. Not that he particularly minded. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so. She’s clever, witty, bold, and independent. True, she can be a bit proud, some would say she’s far too sassy for her time, and she’s definitely judgmental, but still—that’s why we love her.”
J.D. cocked his head. “Well. I guess that settles that.”
Payton grinned, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I can get kind of carried away talking about that book.” She paused, remembering. “Weren’t you going to show me the information you pulled on Gibson’s new general counsel?”
Back to business. J.D. handed Payton the file he had compiled and she began to read through it. But after a few minutes of working in silence, she cast a sideways glance in his direction.
“Still . . . it is kind of a wussy read for a guy, Jameson.” With a sly half smile, she turned back to her reading.
J.D. didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. But after a few minutes had passed, he subtly glanced over and watched Payton as she worked.
Proud and sassy, no doubt. And definitely judgmental.
But still.
PAYTON STOOD IN front of the closet in her underwear, scrutinizing her dress for wrinkles. She was relieved to see it had survived the plane trip relatively unscathed because (a) she had absolutely zero skill when it came to using an iron and (b) there wasn’t time to iron anyway because she was supposed to meet J.D. in the hotel bar downstairs in five minutes.
This was business, she kept reminding herself. She and J.D. were here, at the luxurious Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach, just steps from the white-sand beach and the cerulean blue water of the Atlantic Ocean, on business.
She had stayed in nice hotels before, of course. Plenty of them. One of the perks of working for a top-tier firm was that its lawyers were expected to stay—for image purposes—at top-tier hotels when traveling. It also wasn’t the first time she’d traveled on business on a Friday evening, and it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d traveled with a male coworker.
But.
This time it didn’t feel like business. Or at least, it didn’t feel entirely like business.
After checking in at the front desk, she and J.D. had agreed to meet at seven, a half hour before their dinner with Jasper. This had been Payton’s suggestion—it would’ve been her suggestion had she been with any other associate and she saw no reason to deviate from protocol. Work was still work, Gibson’s Drug Stores were still the firm’s most important new client, and the fact that she just happened to be spending the evening with J.D. was irrelevant.
Similarly irrelevant was the fact that she had snuck in a quick bikini wax after learning that they would be taking this trip.
And one should by no means construe anything from the sexy black lace underwear she had slipped on just moments ago. Honestly. Her fitted dress practically required her to wear a thong and low-cut plunge bra in order to avoid tacky panty and bra lines. And the sexy lacy part? Pure happenstance.
And yes, true, she may or may not have used a bit of dark liner that evening for a smoky-eye look, perhaps she did spend an extra ten or twenty minutes on her hair, and it was even possible that a few dabs of perfume—Bulgari Au Thé Blanc, her personal favorite—had made their way to her skin, a little here, a little there. But she’d only gone through these efforts because she’d had extra time on her hands and didn’t see any reason to idly sit about in her hotel room. And that was her story and she was stick—
Shit!—she was late. Payton suddenly caught sight of the clock on the nightstand. She hurriedly slipped into her dress and slid on her heels. Because this was a business dinner, her dress was black and classic. But a dress nevertheless, and a slim-fitting one at that. She had decided earlier against wearing a suit—it was eighty-five and humid and she would be far too warm wearing a jacket.
And that was her story.
THE ELEVATOR REACHED the first floor and the doors opened. As Payton stepped out, she felt a momentary flutter of—excitement? Nervousness? She never knew what to expect from J.D.—at least not these days, anyway. Sure, they had flirted at times during the plane ride, but on the other hand, they’d talked a lot of business, too.
A question had been raised that night in her apartment, and Payton knew the time to answer that question was quickly drawing to a close. It was a simple question.
What did she want?
She cut through the hotel lobby and found the bar, called Stir, where she was supposed to meet J.D. What did she want? In court, she always trusted her instincts. Maybe she should apply the same philosophy here.
She walked into the bar and was surprised to see such a large crowd already gathered there. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, first the main bar, then the private tables, and found J.D. at neither. Then she spotted an outdoor terrace.
Payton headed outside and saw that the bar’s terrace overlooked the ocean. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light provided by the softly flickering candles that adorned the tables. Through the crowd, she finally spotted J.D. near the back, seated at a table along the balcony ledge. She smiled—of course he would have the best table in the place.
J.D. had his profile to her as he looked out at the ocean. She headed over and—taking advantage of the fact that he had not yet seen her—took her time enjoying the way he looked in his dark gray suit and crisp blue shirt. She watched the ease and sophistication of his movements, the self-assured way he held the rocks glass as he took a sip, the subtle brush of his sleeve as he checked his watch. He certainly had style in spades, no doubt about that, and he was undeniably, incredibly good-looking. It struck her then how funny it was that this was the man she’d worked across the hall from—and fought with—for the past eight years.
As if sensing her approach, J.D. looked over. When he saw Payton, he turned in his chair and watched as she walked toward him.
“You look amazing.” His eyes swept over her dress.
Payton stopped at the table and smiled. “Thanks. I figured it’s too hot for a suit.” Oh, the tangled web we weave.
J.D. watched her settle into the chair across from him. “You’re also late.” But his look suggested he didn’t really mind.
“I’m sorry; I know,” Payton said. She crossed one leg over the other so that the slit of her dress revealed a fair amount of her thigh. An old trick, but still a good one.
“Eager to get down to business?” she asked teasingly.
J.D. glanced down at her exposed leg, and when he looked up, his blue eyes bore right through her.
“There is some unfinished business I plan to get to tonight, yes.”
Wow. Payton literally felt her breath catch at the way J.D. looked at her right then, a look that told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he wanted. No other man had that effect on her; no one else could make her heart race with just one glance and a few simple words. And it was in that moment that she knew without any hesitation exactly what she wanted.
“I guess the question I have, J.D. . . .” She paused lingeringly as she reached across the table and took his hand. She began to trace soft, slow circles with her fingers. “. . . Is how are we ever going to get through this dinner?”
She saw the flash of desire in his eyes as he took her hand in his.
“As quickly as possible,” he said in a husky voice. He lightly brushed his lips against her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers, and Payton could tell that he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to. But Jasper could walk through the door at any minute, and frankly, if she was already getting all hot and bothered from a few smoky gazes, she’d best keep J.D.’s hands, lips, and all his other parts as far away from her as possible until the business portion of the evening’s festivities had officially concluded.
So she pulled back, eyeing J.D. across the candlelit table. “Perhaps. But for now maybe you should start by buying me a drink.”
“That’s awfully retro for you, isn’t it?”
“Can’t I be old-fashioned, too?” she asked. Even if she knew what she wanted, that didn’t mean the games had to be over. Yet. After all, they had at least two hours to kill and she needed something to distract her through dinner.
But J.D. was on to her. He leaned back in his chair. “So, this is how you want to play this.”
“Hmm . . . disappointed?”
With a smile of amusement, J.D. shook his head. “Not at all. Just remember, Payton, two can play at that.”
More smoky blue eyes.
Damn. She really needed to devise a countermove to scorching hot sex looks.
But until she did, Payton planned to savor every moment of the possibilities that lay ahead.
“WHAT DO YOU say, Jameson? Another Scotch? Come on, Payton, you don’t seem like the type of girl who’d let a man outdrink her.”
Jasper was in rare form that evening.
J.D. watched in amazement as the CEO flagged down their waiter and ordered another round. He’d forgotten how much these good old Southern boys could drink. And Jasper—apparently oblivious to the fact that everyone else at the table still had untouched drinks from the previous two turns at “how ’bout another?”—showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.
Richard Firestone, Gibson’s Drug Stores’ new general counsel and one of those—to put it delicately—tight-ass-style lawyers who gave all the others a bad name, leaned in his chair toward Jasper. “Don’t say ‘girl,’ ” he whispered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Jasper asked loudly.
Richard glanced in Payton’s direction. “ ‘You don’t seem like the type of woman who’d let a man outdrink her,’ ” he corrected Jasper’s phrasing. “We don’t say ‘girl’ anymore.”
“You know what I say about all this political correctness these days? It’s a load of steamin’ bull crap.” Jasper waved his glass around as he peered across the table. “Payton, you’re my discrimination expert—can I still say ‘girl’?”
“You can say anything you want to your lawyers, Jasper.”
“Ha! See—you boys are too uptight.” Jasper pointed at Richard and J.D. “And notice I said boys,” he emphasized proudly, “lest anyone ever accuse me—or my company—of being unequal in opportunity.” He polished off his whiskey on the rocks in one gulp and slammed down the glass with indignant emphasis. Then he glanced around the table. “Okay—so I guess this is as good a time as any—should we get down to business? Talk about this little case of ours?”
J.D. bit his tongue and fought the urge to check his watch. Now Jasper wanted to talk about the case? That wasn’t a discussion they could’ve started, say, two courses ago?
He stole a quick glance at Payton, who sat to his left. She either had the best poker face he’d ever seen, or she was awfully damn nonchalant at the fucking tortoise speed with which this dinner was moving, because she actually appeared quite amused by Jasper’s antics. And that, come to think of it, was beginning to piss him off, too. He’d told her earlier that two could play at her game, and indeed for the first two courses of their dinner he’d been as cool as she. But the truth of the matter was, he just wanted to be alone with her. Frankly, he was fed up with all the things that constantly came between them, like work and Chase Bellamy and client dinners. And clothes.
