Ivy Jo leaned forward in her chair. “How revealing are you getting in these pictures?”
“No nudity from the waist down. For the women firefighters, tank tops or sports bras. Their choice.”
Ivy Jo and Emily glanced at each other, nodded their approval and raised their hands.
Graci-Ella wrote something on the paper and looked at her watch. “Cripes. I have a meeting in half an hour so I need to head off. Captain, may I meet with your team a few more times after they’ve had a chance to think about it? And talk to their significant others, of course. I’ll bring by some calendars tonight I’ve done for various groups as fund raisers. Give them a chance to look over my work.”
“Sure, as long as we’re here and not out on some kind of emergency. Call first to save yourself a trip. Tiny, give her your cell number.” The corners of the chief’s mouth quirked—matchmaking bastard.
She sat next to Boyd and swiveled in her chair so her knees touched his thigh. Between her perfume and those long legs so close he could touch them, he was six heat beats away from doing something stupid. Just how would it feel to trail a finger up her firm thigh? The desire was so strong, he could sense beads of sweet popping out on his forehead.
Her blue eyes focused on his as she held her cell. “Your number, please? I really would like to talk to you some more about being in the calendar. Maybe tonight we can have a few moments of privacy?”
“Why me? Look around, there are plenty of muscular men in this unit. A little powder and lip gloss and whoever you pick will grab anyone’s attention.”
She smiled and looked away as if she didn’t want him to see it. So, her reply surprised him. “You have a sense of humor, kind of sharp-witted. I like that.” She rested her soft hand on his. “Please, give me a chance.”
Oh, he’d like to give her more than a chance, but this custody business had put a hold on his sex life. Boyd couldn’t allow any rumors to detract from the judge’s opinion of his ability to take better care of Matt than Chantel.
Two hours, four cups of coffee later and Graci-Ella was wired. She’d worked for Baker, Brannock, and Hughes law firm for two years, putting in extra hours just to keep her head above the heavy load. Too bad no one seemed to notice. Of course, how could anyone even see her behind the stacks of files on her desk? The new cases seemed to multiply at a faster rate than those she had ready for their court dates.
Her square office, with a small window, was claustrophobic. What she needed to do this weekend was rearrange the mismatched furniture, find a better way to store her files and add some plants. She glanced at the metal strips holding up the ceiling tile. If she got the right kind of hooks, she could add hanging plants without using any of her small floor space. How could her clients have any faith in her when they walked into this pitiful looking postage stamp?
Then there were her parents, who were chomping at the bit to fly south from Maryland to see her. They’d been aghast at her office on their first visit, but she’d told a small fib that she’d been working out of this tiny space until an office opened up. Her mother nearly turned herself inside out with outrage—her daughter deserved better. Yeah, well, the newest lawyer got the leftovers.
She glanced around her space. It was wall to wall, mismatched odds and ends. If her parents came down again, they’d insist on coming by to see her office. How could she face them with any pride when they saw she was still in the same spot, with zero career progression? Her dad would storm to one of the bosses’ office and demand to know why. For a classic car mechanic, her dad had a lot of nerve.
Co-worker Elizabeth Stone popped her head in Graci-Ella’s open door. “Hey, are you playing in the basketball game at the Y tomorrow? Lots of cute guys usually show. Of course you’ll have to let them make a basket now and then, so you don’t wound their male egos.”
“Ugh! I get so tired of the fragile male ego.” Graci-Ella forked her fingers through her long hair and chuckled. “No, I have a breakfast meeting with a client and then I’m thinking of coming in here to better organize this miniscule office the firm so kindly gave me. I feel like I’m working out of an old closet. Gives me the willies sometimes.”
Elizabeth looked around. “Come to think of it, paper, ink cartridges and toner used to be stored in here.” Both women laughed. “I need a favor. A huge favor.” Elizabeth extended three files.
“Beware of lawyers bearing files. What are they?” Why was she even asking? Obviously it was more work for her. Her gaze shifted to her two “in” piles and sighed.
“Cases I’m representing that I can’t handle right now. Baker assigned me the Middleton case this morning and it’s the most important one I’ve ever had. I need to do a top notch job in negotiating a huge payout. It could mean a big jump forward in my career.”
Ignoring the pang of jealousy, Graci-Ella congratulated her friend on the coup. “Look, hon, anytime one of the senior partners hands you something this important, it’s a colossal compliment. Take it and run with it. So, you want me to take over some of your cases?” Maybe she’d get some recognition for this extra effort.
Elizabeth leaned against the doorjamb. “Yes, Patrick’s taking over four. I gave three to Joe, but I figured you were the only one strong enough to handle these.” She shook the thick folders at her.
“Beware of sneaky lawyers bearing cases and compliments.” Graci-Ella laughed and extended her hand. Elizabeth had been the first lawyer to make her feel welcome at the firm. How could Graci-Ella forget her co-worker’s kindness by refusing to help her?
“Warning,” Elizabeth said before passing her the files. The one client is a whiny bitch. Name’s Chantel Calloway—a custody hearing. Woman needs a reality check and a bottle of Ritalin. I declare, she’ll be bitching one minute about how her ex ignored her and turned cold. Then suddenly ask you if you like the color of her fingernail polish. Don’t let her air-headed façade fool you, though. She’ll be bossing you around in no time. The woman’s obviously used to getting her way.
Graci-Ella leafed through them. “The custody case shouldn’t be so bad.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “Don’t worry. I don’t take shit from anyone. When’s the court date?” She found the page she was looking for. “November third. Looks like you’ve gotten most of the work done. Background check on the ex-husband completed?”
“Yeah, he seems clean to me. Still, I can understand a mother wanting custody of her kid. The second case is what should be a simple land dispute. We’ve got two senior citizens who want to argue over a foot of property, fifty feet long. Martha O’Shaye, the party we represent, and Nancy Beech, can’t be in the same room without World War Three breaking out. Martha claims the foot of land is hers and she wants to widen her driveway by twelve inches. Nancy wants to plant flower beds in that strip. I call it the case of the divas.” Linda shook her head. “One old woman claims the other’s dog craps on her yard in revenge, as if the damn dog would know the difference.”
Graci-Ella glared at the lawyer whose short, blonde hair was frizzier than usual. The humidity must be high today. “Oh, you’re going to owe me big time for this one. A whinny bitch and elderly divas?”
“Hold on. It gets better. The third is a DUI and disorderly, second offense.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for these cases?” Graci-Ella fought back a grin and lost. “Don’t expect me to buy you any coffee today…or
