though you have to work with your new boss, you don’t get to greet this person until later. Man, that’s not fair. You should have been named a partner this year. Now me—I know I’ve got a way to go. I barely passed the bar, much to my father’s disappointment. He claimed my grandfather was probably rolling in his grave.”
“Bar scores are irrelevant. You passed. Besides, it’s not like you had to worry about finding a job. You’re a Morris and you were coming to work here.”
“Exactly. And you’re a fourth-generation Lancaster lawyer who scored the highest possible on the state bar that year and who has won some pretty impressive cases already. Your grandfather loves you. Your greatgrandfather would if he were around. Heck, even my dad loves you, which is why I don’t understand his decision. You should have been named full partner, also. To be passed over by someone outside just so the firm can claim diversity…well, I see it as an affront. And by a babe, too.”
“Babe?” The word caught Bruce’s attention. He put aside his legal brief and swiveled as Colin closed the office door. Bruce had to admit he hadn’t really been listening. When Colin got on a roll, he could be as long-winded as Bruce’s grandfather Roy. Bruce had learned to tune both men out.
“What do you mean, babe?” Bruce asked. “Some babe shot you down? You never lose out with women.”
“Top of the bar exam, but still, as always, a lousy listener. You’d think as your best friend I’d be used to it by now. I even notice things like your shirts, which by the way your new tailor did a great job on. So tell me, how did we survive rooming together all those years in college? Anyway, I’m not talking about my women, though later I’ll have to tell you about Gina.”
Bruce arched his brow. “Gina?”
“Gina,” Colin accented the capital letter G and made the shape of a woman’s curves with his hands. “She even taught this dog some new tricks.”
Bruce waved his own hand dismissively. He and Colin had always been confidants—sharing secrets and drowning sorrows when needed. “Okay, Gina later. If you weren’t talking about her earlier, then who?”
“Oh, yeah, the new babe. Our new partner. Christina.”
“Christina?” Bruce frowned as disquiet stole over him.
“Yeah, Christina Jones. Kyle Jones’s ex-wife. You know, the Cincinnati Bengals’ tight end?”
“She’s our new partner? Chris Jones is a female?” Bruce’s grandfather had had it all wrong. Bruce instantly knew that had been deliberate. Reginald Morris wasn’t a fool.
“Boy, you have been out of the loop up in Indy, haven’t you?” Colin checked to make sure no one could overhear him. “She’s one hot mama, if you get my drift. You know how I am with women. I’ve got to behave myself or I’ll end up being part of that sexual harassment suit you both will be working on.”
Colin attracted women like a magnet, but Bruce didn’t care about that. Bruce had worked on cases with females before, and all had been totally professional. If his new boss were Miss America, it wouldn’t matter.
But the fact that the senior partners had hired a female as full partner, instead of him, stung once again. However, he’d rise above this blow to his damaged male ego.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” Colin chastised.
“Uh, no,” Bruce admitted. “I’m rather tired. I had a late call. Kitchen fire. A fry pan gone wild.”
Colin rolled his eyes. Unlike Bruce, he’d avoided volunteering. “Lovely. How about we meet for a cocktail tonight at the country club. Say about five? I’ll be over at the Ripley County Courthouse all day, doing closing arguments for the Watson case.”
“That’s fine. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
“Or if you need resuscitation after you see your new boss,” Colin said. And with that he opened Bruce’s office door. “Oh. Hey, Angela.”
“Hey, Colin,” Bruce’s paralegal said as she stepped her very pregnant body by Colin and into Bruce’s office. “Bruce, they just phoned. They’d like you in the conference room now.”
Bruce glanced at his Rolex watch, a law-school graduation gift from his father. It was only eight-fifty. “Early.”
“Maybe that’s a good sign,” Colin said with a nonchalant shrug.
“Maybe,” Bruce said. He took one last sip of coffee, stood up and grabbed a breath mint. He popped the candy into his mouth and slipped into his suit jacket as the mint dissolved. “We’ll see.”
“I have to get the name of your tailor,” Colin said, again eyeing the cut of Bruce’s suit. “That is a great suit. Would work wonders on the ladies.”
Bruce flicked a piece of lint off the subtle blue pinstripe. “Salvatore Bandoria in Indianapolis. He and his wife are both seventy and all they do is make custom suits and dress shirts the old-fashioned way, as they did in Italy. They don’t advertise. Remind me later to give you the phone number.”
“I will,” Colin said. “Good luck.”
Those words brought back the reality of the situation, and Bruce shook his head as he walked past his paralegal and his best friend. “Thanks, but hopefully I won’t require any.”
“Yeah, right,” Colin said with a wry grin. “You’re off to that frying pan. You of all people should know firsthand exactly how much damage frying pans can do.”
The fire late last night had scorched the entire wall of the kitchen, ruining the stove and several custom cabinets. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Deliberately not answering Colin, Bruce headed for the stairs. After all, how hard could a woman be?
“HE’S ON HIS WAY,” Reginald Morris announced. He smiled at Christina. “More coffee before you jump in and get your feet wet?”
“Please,” she said, and held out her cup. Unlike wine from Kyle, who had plied her with too much, coffee from Reginald Morris couldn’t hurt.
Besides, by acknowledging the truth of why she’d been hired, she’d prepared for the worst.
There was one other female partner, Susan Jenkins. She handled trusts and estates, and at fifty-seven, she’d been with Lancaster and Morris for almost thirty years. Reginald Morris handled corporate law, as did three of the other senior partners, including Reginald’s brother, Larry. There were ten senior partners total, including Christina, and all were present except for Roger Lancaster, who was on an extended trip with his wife and not expected until the week after New Year’s.
Christina accepted another cup of java just as a movement at the door caught her attention. This must be Bruce Lancaster, descendant of one of the firm’s founders. Everyone in the conference room had been raving about him all morning—he’d just done a fantastic job on an appellate case in Indianapolis, which was why she hadn’t met him earlier.
“He’ll be your right hand on this case,” Reginald had told her. “He’s the real reason the women brought their issue to us in the first place. His cleaning lady told him about her friends’ plights, and he insisted they come talk to him, since their complaints were falling
