“No?” I question, doing a fair job of not hinting that I think Lucy’s full of shit.
“I don’t have a sitter for Dillon,” she explains quietly, which is new. I’ve not found a lot of things about Lucy to be quiet. Or easy, for that matter. “My mom usually watches him on Friday nights, but she can’t this week. She’s not feeling well.”
Even with her well-thought-out reason, I still sense she’s being untruthful.
Corbin, surprisingly not catching on to her antics, moves in to comfort the little liar. “It’s all right. Maybe we can take you to lunch tomorrow instead.”
When Lucy bites her bottom lip, waiting for my reaction, I look to him and suggest, “Or I’ll take her alone.” Once I offer, I relish in Lucy’s obvious panic. “We can have a nice, long chat about work ethics and how honesty is always the best policy.”
“Oh, like you’d know…” she starts, but stops when I level my eyes at her.
Corbin’s eyebrows furrow, and it’s understandable as he’s lost in the silent conversation Lucy and I are engaged in. “But, she’s why we’re–”
“I said I’ll take her,” I reiterate. “She’s been here a month. We don’t want to delay the celebration. Do we, Lucy?”
Corbin shakes his head, as Lucy drops hers to study the floor.
“Is that all you need, Corbin?”
Still looking lost, he places his hand on Lucy’s lower back to prod her forward. She turns to him, a pleading look crossing her face before she smiles weakly.
“That’s it,” Corbin replies. “I’m headed downtown for a while this morning. You two won’t kill each other, will you?”
“Nope,” I answer, keeping my eyes on her.
“I think we’re good,” she adds, focusing her eyes on the floor again.
“All right. I’ll leave you to it. Call if you need anything,” he says before walking away.
Once Corbin’s out of earshot, I point to the open area beside me. “Grab a chair, pull it around, and sit down.”
Lucy’s head tilts, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She points to the chair across from my desk. “But I sit here.”
“Grab a chair, pull it around, and sit,” I say again, this time stronger.
Exhaling a dramatic puff of air, Lucy rolls the chair around my desk and positions it next to mine. However, she’s left enough space between us that it’ll be impossible for her to see the laptop’s screen. Her eyes mark me with an irritable look as I grab the arm of the chair and pull it closer before she’s had a chance to sit.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” she questions.
Although her voice is serious, her eyes are full of merriment. The visions I’ve tried desperately to forget come back.
I close my eyes and take a breath, but she continues, making me struggle to keep my composure. “Spank me maybe?”
“I’ve thought of nothing more,” I mumble to myself, trying to remain in control.
Without acknowledging what I’m sure she heard me say, Lucy smooths the back of her skirt and sits. Closing the distance even more, she rolls her chair right next to mine. If I turn around, even slightly, I’d probably find her gloating.
“What happened yesterday won’t ever happen again,” I remind her, referring to Jeremy, as I flip through the screens on my laptop. I was too flustered at the time to truly counsel her. If I’m being honest, I was too captivated by her, but I don’t voice that.
“Which part won’t happen again exactly?” she draws out to annoy me.
“All of it,” I clip.
When I turn around to look at her, I’d swear she seems almost as disappointed in hearing it as I am in saying it.
“It won’t,” she assures me, lifting and sorting through the pages of her notepad. “I was wrong.”
“You could’ve cost us a client.”
“I said I was wrong.”
“Or you could’ve done worse damage to Jeremy than has already been done.”
Her jaw ticks and her temples protrude with each grind of her teeth. “Got it, boss. Anything else?”
The term ‘boss’ is meant to irritate me, and it does. That kiss wasn’t anything close to the relationship we’re supposed to engage in.
Letting go of my body’s reaction to her close proximity, I state, “I’m hoping to settle their divorce without a judge making decisions for them, if it’s possible.”
“That’s good,” she replies quietly. Seemingly, she’s gotten herself together. “I e-mailed a list of family therapists to Mrs. Lehman already. I hope that helps.”
“It does. Thank you.”
“Too bad I won’t be spanked, though,” she quips without warning. I feel my body tighten with her suggestion. Before I can counter it, she adds, “Or gagged. I had high hopes for that.”
Sitting back in my chair, having enough of this for one day, I turn to face her. “Are you finished?”
“Yep,” she answers swiftly. “All done.”
“Good. So we can work?”
“Sure,” she agrees, then continues. “I’m sorry about dinner. You don’t need to take me to lunch, though. It’s really okay.”
Keeping my concentration on the screen, aimlessly searching through various pages of my calendar, not knowing exactly what I’m looking for, I accuse, “You’re lying. And that’s okay, but you’re going.”
“My mom could be sick,” she comments. “She could even have chicken pox. You wouldn’t know.” Still not looking at her, I stay quiet to let her dig herself in deeper. It takes about three seconds before she does. “She’s had this cough for, like, a week,” she tells me, and I fight not to laugh.
She’s ridiculous.
“She could have a fever, too. I could show up for dinner and give it to you. It’d be–”
Finally deciding I can’t take any more, I turn my head to face her again. “Can you stop talking?”
“What?”
“You didn’t like when I laughed at you, then told you about it later. I’m guessing you won’t be any happier if I laugh at you now.”
“What’s funny?” she asks, her tone defensive.
Gesturing to my desk, I avoid her question. “Can we work?”
Lucy shrugs, pops a sucker in her mouth, and uses her tongue to position it to the side. “We can, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” I confirm, looking at her while remembering the way her mouth tasted. “And you’re going to dinner, so tell your mom to pick up some imaginary cold medicine for her imaginary illness.”
“I’m not going,” she states again. I hear the pop of the sucker coming out of her mouth, but I refuse to look.
“Then you’re having lunch with me. Alone. Choose, Lucy, but I’ll remind you that tomorrow night your favorite person, Corbin, will be there. Today, he won’t.”
She concedes with a gasp. “I’ll call Mom during lunch and ask her for tomorrow.”
“Good girl.”
I swear I hear her nearly growl.
A few peaceful moments pass before she inquires, “Can I ask you something?”
“Is it going to annoy me?”
“No.”
“Is it going to piss me off?”
“More than usual?” she questions.
“Will it?”
“No,” she answers.
“Will it make me want to shut you up?” Her eyes grow wide, so I give her the permission she needs to continue. “Ask away.”
After a brief pause, she starts, “I just wondered if you…”
She stops. I don’t look her way as I prod, “What?”
“I was wondering if you ever felt something for any of your clients.”
Her question doesn’t surprise me. During law school, I used to wonder if lawyers were immune to the sordid details within their cases.
“Felt something?”
“For your clients, or even people in general.”
Finally giving in, I sit back and turn my chair in her direction, my knee grazing hers. “If you’re asking do I want good things for people in Jeremy’s position, the answer is yes. But I’m not paid to dwell on their circumstances. I have eighteen active clients who are all in the same boat.”
Lucy nods in understanding, removing the sucker and holding it in her hand. “What about people?”
“People?”
“Do you date?”
After what happened in my office yesterday, I inquire, “Should you be asking me this?”
Her answer is defiant. “I just did, so you should answer.”
Aware that she’s not dated anyone recently, I ask, “Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
“I date.”
Her eyebrows raise, her nose scrunching slightly. It would help my concentration if she’d stop doing that, but I’m sure it’s too much to ask.
“You date Ashlie?”
“Yes. Ashlie.”
I turn back to my work, assuming her interrogation about my personal life is over.
However, of course, I find I’m wrong. “Have you always dated models?”
“No. I used to date young, nosy, posturing assistants until they wore me out. I started dating models after that.”
Lucy’s laugh bursts out and the sound reverberates in my chest. “Well, there you go.”