Bad Behavior(68)

I swallowed. Hard. It wasn't just that he was my boss or that he was scary or that he was known to fire associates for far less than what I'd just done. No. It was more that I had been lusting after him for the six months that I'd been working at Palmer & Granade. He was, simply put, the god of my idolatry.

Washington Granade was one of the most sought-after criminal defense attorneys in New Orleans. He could get a jury of twelve in the palm of his hand and work them any which way he pleased. I'd seen him do it when I was a law student, watching him defend a white-collar criminal from charges of cooking his company's books. Wash Granade was charismatic and, I had no problem admitting, handsome as the devil.

I was so happy I'd landed the job working at his firm right out of law school. I would meet my idol and learn from him, not to mention I would get to be around one of the greatest trial lawyers in the state-and did I mention he was smoking hot? But it didn't take long for me to realize the charm was something he turned on and off like a spigot. Sadly for me, the spigot seemed to be permanently in the "off" position.

"Now that Ms. Montreat is done with her morning antics, I need to know which of you has time to take on a particularly complex murder case. You'll get second-chair trial experience if I think you can handle yourself. But I warn you"-he undid the top button on his charcoal gray suit and sat, placing his large hands on the table-"this is not going to be a cakewalk. I'm going to need someone who can work nights, weekends, and who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty. Who wants it?"



       
         
       
        

Of the eight associates at the table, eight raised their hands. I tried to hold my hand the highest, like an idiot, as if that would mean that I won. I was a climber, so naturally, competition was in my nature.

Mr. Granade looked around and sat back in his chair. "So all of you are up to the task?"

A round of yes-sirs went up.

He smirked and flicked his gaze across the eager faces at the table. "Are you certain?"

Another round of affirmative, yet also kiss-ass, responses.

The smirk changed to a smile, his even white teeth making him look like more of a stunner. He had dimples. I'd seen them only once before, when his brother visited him at the office and made an off-color joke. That smile was locked in my memory, dimples and all. I'd never seen it again.

If Mr. Granade ever smiled with delight at me, the dimples would appear and my panties would melt. I knew it. I hoped one day I would say something so amazingly clever and brilliant that it would bring out the smile, dimples and all, and he would sweep me off my feet and do unbelievably inappropriate things to me in his corner office. My panties stayed put this morning, because his smile was more wolfish than anything else. No dimples. Not even a trace.

I surreptitiously pushed out my boobs, hoping to get some sort of edge. Terrell straightened his tie. He was handsome, intelligent, and knew how to please even the most discerning of cocks, but this particular cock was mine. Not a chance, bestie.

Mr. Granade looked up in thought, his Adam's apple tantalizing me above the edge of his sharp white dress shirt and navy tie. "Here's what we'll do. We'll have a little competition." He lowered his head and leveled his gaze at us. "Whichever one of you can answer this question to my satisfaction will get to assist me in this case."

I glanced around at the eager faces. I had to beat them. I didn't care if they went to a better law school or had better grades or maybe were a little thinner-especially Yvonne, that skinny bitch-I had to win.

The room simmered as Mr. Granade paused. Every associate was gunning for the spot. Yvonne twirled a lock of midnight hair around her finger and sneered at me. Like I said, skinny bitch.

Terrell sat at my elbow, pen poised and at the ready, as if this were a math competition. If that were the case, I was already good and screwed.

Mr. Granade rapped his knuckles on the table. "Here we go. The question is as follows: You're defending one of two accused bank robbers. The State decides to prosecute the defendants separately. Your guy is going first. The State lists only one witness against your client on its disclosures-the co-defendant bank robber. The co-defendant is set to give particularly damning testimony about how your client masterminded the entire robbery, including plans to kill a guard upon escape. Trial is set to start in an hour. Your guy is looking at twenty years in prison, minimum, upon conviction. What do you do?" 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his toned but not overly muscled pecs straining against his shirt. I wondered if he was hairy under there. If the strands were the same chocolate color as the smooth locks on his head. Maybe there was a dusting and then a goodie trail leading down below.