I strutted out of the conference room, no shame in my game, after the meeting adjourned. I'd beaten the other associates and was riding a victory high.
"I expect you in my office in five minutes." Mr. Granade strode past, his long legs making easy work of the hallway leading to his office. His confident steps were quicker than usual, and his head was cocked slightly to the side, in my direction.
Terrell was at my elbow. "You sure pulled that out of your ass."
"Don't be jealous. Or do. I like when people are jealous. It means I'm doing something right."
Terrell snorted and took my arm in his. "You are in it now, Caroline. Mr. Granade doesn't suffer fools-"
"Mama didn't raise no fool." I elbowed him in the ribs.
"I know. I'm just saying maybe you should tone it down a bit if you're going to be in close quarters with him. I kind of like having you around." He peered down at me, the dark brown skin around his eyes crinkling with worry.
He led me to my office and waited in the doorway as I grabbed a legal pad and pen. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Mr. Granade was a tough nut to crack, and I needed to keep my head in the game. The game wouldn't be as much fun without a slew of dirty jokes, but I needed to make an effort at professionalism if I was going to have any chance at actually sitting second chair in a murder trial.
"Be you. You know there's nothing I love more than you being you. Just be smart about how much you let him see."
I bent over and dug around for my Rules of Evidence book. Snagging it, I turned back to Terrell. He had put his manicured hand to his face, as if shielding his eyes from the sun-but it was just my ass.
"And I mean that literally and figuratively. Are you wearing underwear?"
"This skirt's too tight. I didn't want any panty lines." I shrugged.
"Don't bend over like that in Mr. Granade's office. That's all I can tell you."
I winked and walked past him. "He's into what I have downstairs, so it may be a good idea to do just that."
"See." He was at my heels. "This is what I meant by 'toning it down.'"
"I got this. I am toned down. Stop your fretting. Besides, if I get fired you might get a chance for some alone time with him."
He stopped. "Good point. You do you, Caroline."
I threw him a small wave before turning down the hallway to Mr. Granade's office. The door was closed. It was usually open. I hesitated outside, wondering if I should knock or just wait. I looked to Shirley, his secretary, in the cubicle at my back. She was on the phone and paid me no mind.
I smoothed my skirt down, given Terrell's warning. It was still tight, but it didn't display the goods more than I wanted. My top was low cut-as were almost all my tops (what's a turtleneck?)-and I made sure my jacket sat on my chest so as to show just enough to keep it interesting.
I took a breath and knocked, heat rushing into my ears from sheer nerves. Get it together, Caroline.
"Come in." His deep rumble skittered over my skin like electricity.
Tone it down. Tone it down. Tone it down. I pushed the door open and strode in. Then I almost dropped everything. He'd taken his jacket off. I'd never seen him without a suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up. And was his hair rumpled? Had he run his perfect fingers through his almost-too-long hair? It was sex hair. I peeked behind me. Nope, there wasn't some law clerk hiding out post-BJ.
"What are you doing?" He was typing, his eyes on the screen at the edge of his desk.
"I was just looking for-nothing. I wasn't doing anything."
"That's not what we pay you for, Ms. Montreat. Close the door." He kept typing as he spoke.
"Right." I swung the door shut, catching Shirley giving me a pensive look as I did so.
I turned and took a step toward Mr. Granade, wondering if we were going to sit at his small conference table or if I should take one of the leather seats in front of his desk.
Several large windows graced his corner office, the sunlight streaming in and bathing everything in a golden morning glow. His décor was understated, as if to let the view of the New Orleans skyline rule the room. It did, buildings rising high and gleaming in the cloudless sky.
"Have a seat. I'm almost done."
"Sure." I threw a glance to the conference table but decided to choose the chair closest to his desk instead. I sank down and crossed my legs at the ankles before arranging my legal pad and rule book.
He finally finished his rapid-fire typing and clicked something on his screen. Then he focused his eyes on me, and the heat that had already been in my ears turned into an inferno. He was just so good-looking. It should have gotten him a censure from the bar for unfairly competitive behavior. He was thirty-one but had made partner at an unheard-of twenty-seven. And he was so much more than an unbearably pretty face.