Because, of course, who she was or wasn’t dating was just as important as her professional skill set.
Well, damn it, Parker’s crappy attitude wasn’t going to ruin her night.
“Tell me about the case.”
She almost refocused the conversation, but the truth was that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Her sister was supportive and wonderful, but Becka had her own thing going on and couldn’t be less interested in law. Get together for drinks and chat about life and what their parents were up to? Sure. Hash out the details of whatever case Lucy was working on? Not a chance. And Gideon actually looked interested.
She picked up her wineglass. “I got the entire case thrown out today. All they had was circumstantial evidence and a bad attitude about my guy’s priors. They were so certain he did the crime, they didn’t look at anyone else. Anyone on the outside would have come to the same conclusion, but it’s always a crapshoot with Judge Jones.”
“That’s great, Lucy. Congrats.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and then took a drink. “How was your day?”
“Productive.” He leaned over and pulled a tablet out of his briefcase. “I have some things to show you.”
Disappointment coated her tongue when he slid the tablet across the table to her. They’d barely gotten their conversation started and now they were back to business. You hired him as a business decision. You don’t get to have it both ways. It wasn’t fair to ask him to go back to being her friend along with her being his client.
She picked up the tablet and found pictures of three men. She clicked on the first one—a blond guy with a close-cropped beard and a seriously expensive suit—and found a file. “‘Aaron Livingston, born May thirteenth...’” He’d compiled a list of information ranging from where Aaron was born to where he graduated high school and college—and his GPA at both. There was also a notification about possible likes and dislikes. “Wow, Gideon. You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
He had compiled the same information for each of the other two men. Interestingly enough, all three of them were local and had gone to prestigious business colleges, graduating close to the top of their class. All three had moved on to respected companies and seemed to be doing well for themselves.
Using their information and ignoring their pictures, she wouldn’t have been able to pick any of them out of a lineup. “This... Wow.”
“You said that already.” He frowned. “Is something wrong? I assumed that you were looking for someone in the same financial class as you, and leaning toward white-collar businessmen. That is why you came to me, correct?”
Yes, at least in theory. In reality, this whole thing was playing out much differently than she’d expected. It didn’t make a bit of sense, especially because it was proceeding exactly how she’d hoped. “No, it’s fine. They’re excellent candidates.”
Seeing them laid out like this, the situation just became so much more real. In a very short period of time she’d be sitting across the table from one of these men, rather than Gideon. She’d be torturing herself with wondering if they’d kiss her after dinner—if maybe they’d expect more to happen.
I’m not ready.
She took a gulp of her wine. “Can we get dinner to go?”
NERVES STOLE LUCY’S voice as she and Gideon walked to her apartment. She’d intentionally picked a restaurant close to her place so that they wouldn’t have to worry about a cab ride to get from point A to point B. She nodded at the doorman as he held open the door for them and then she strode to the elevator and pushed the button.
Gideon followed her inside and leaned against the elevator wall. The food in the paper bag smelled divine, but her craving was solely for the man holding it. She clasped her hands together to keep from touching him. “I want to progress tonight.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”
Why was it so challenging to say these things aloud? She was an adult. She should be able to express her needs honestly without fear of being laughed out of the building—or rejected. Lucy fisted her hands and raised her chin. The mirrors in the elevator walls and door reflected a version of her that looked ready to go several rounds on the courthouse floor. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want everything.”
That predatory stillness rolled over him and his eyes seemed to flare with barely banked heat. “Bite-size steps are the smart option.”
“Nothing about this is smart, and I think we both know that.” Last night had made her skittish in a way she hadn’t expected, and if she was shrewder and less stubborn, she would have called the whole thing off as a result. Instead she was pushing them toward something neither could take back.
The elevator door opened and she wasted no time walking into the hall and down to her door. There were only four apartments on this floor, each occupying their respective corner of the building. Hers faced southeast, so she often woke to the early morning sunlight streaming through her windows. At least on the days she wasn’t up before dawn.
She unlocked the door and held it open for Gideon. He stopped just inside the entranceway, barely leaving room for her to slide inside behind him. She tried to see the place through his eyes. The open floor plan showcased the big floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen lay just to the right of the front hall, the white cabinets set off with little turquoise handles she’d found online. The living room contained a decent-size TV that she rarely used and two short couches arranged in a loose V. Her cat, Garfunkel, lifted his head and gave Gideon a death stare.
Gideon moved to the kitchen counter—white marble shot through with pale gray—and set the bag of food on it. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why the change of pace?”
“Maybe I just want you.” It was the truth, but not the full truth.
He shook his head. “Honesty, Lucy.”
Why had she agreed to that particular term? She pulled at the hem of her fitted blue dress. “I’m nervous. Last night was good, but I didn’t expect that level of reaction, and I’m afraid if we don’t get it over with, I’m going to change my mind.”
“Get it over with,” Gideon murmured. “Sex isn’t something you ‘get over with.’ If you think of it that way, there’s a problem somewhere.”
A problem he was determined to fix if the expression on his face was anything to go by. She sliced her hand through the air. “No problem. That’s not what I meant at all. My issue is that the anticipation, the will-we-or-won’t-we, is driving me nuts. I want to rip it off right now—like a Band-Aid.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then burst out laughing. “A Band-Aid. Fuck, woman, you really are going to kill me.” He ran a hand over his face. “The anticipation is meant to be enjoyed.”
She could think of a lot of words to describe how she felt standing in her apartment with Gideon and knowing they were alone and could do what they wanted for hours. Enjoyment didn’t top the list. Her body was too hot, her lungs too tight, her core aching from need. But she
