fine.
God, he’d looked fine. She let her eyes drift closed.
He’d been a good-looking guy in law school, but he’d matured into an incredible man with incredible presence. He filled up the space around him, claimed it, sucked the air from the lungs of those nearby. And with a calmness that both drew her in and infuriated her. He still made her tummy flop and her heart flutter, still made her want to argue.
Still made her want to get naked and let everything go.
What a mess.
Colleen smacked the heel of her hand against the leather steering wheel. Unsure what else to do, she fished her cell phone out of her purse and sent a text message to her best friend, Megan, a massage therapist. Megs always talked her down from the various ledges of her life when no one else could. Not that she gave anyone else the chance, but still. Megs was centered, nonjudgmental, soothing. Real.
A lot like Eric Nelson, come to think of it.
No. No. No.
Colleen couldn’t risk viewing him that way. It only made things worse.
She just needed to speak with Megan, who knew everything about her and, shockingly, loved her anyway. Go figure. Megan was her safety zone, the one person she could tell absolutely anything. On the other hand, she didn’t plan to tell Eric Nelson anything about herself or her life. Ever. She’d gotten too close to that flame once before, and the burn still licked up inside her in moments of weakness.
She quickly typed:
Opposing counsel? Eric Nelson. From law school. THE GUY. Kill me now.
She hit Send and waited. Moments later, her phone rang.
“Hi, sweetie,” Megan said, in her just-finished-yoga-and-meditation voice. “You okay?”
Colleen bit her lip and blinked into the cold, wintery brightness. Dirty snow from the last storm clung to the curbs, but the sky gleamed a bright whitish gray. “I don’t know. I just…Why him? Of all people? This case is so important, Megs. I can’t let our past get in the way of winning.”
Megan laughed softly. “Do you ever let anything get in the way of winning?”
Colleen cracked a reluctant smile. “Good point. But it’s Eric.”
“Yes, it is,” Megan said softly.
“And we’re meeting for lunch. Now. Ostensibly to discuss the case.”
“Let it go. It’s just lunch with another professional.”
Colleen huffed. “Yeah, a professional I let my guard down with. And had wild jungle sex with.” Life-altering, crushingly intimate, dangerous jungle sex. “Oh, God,” she groaned, squeezing her forehead with her free hand. Heat and something more visceral swirled through her body. An ache. A primal yearning. “I thought I could handle this, but then I saw him and—”
“You can handle it, sweetie. It was a one-night stand back in school. It happens.”
“Not to me.”
“Well, it did,” Megan said, as if it were no biggie. “And nothing ever came of it, so release it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It can be. You’re an amazing attorney, Colleen, and you’re going to win this case. Take some deep breaths—you remember the breathing techniques I taught you?”
Oops, busted. “Yes. Definitely.” Too enthusiastic.
“Are you practicing them daily?”
She considered fibbing. Why bother; Megan would know. “Not exactly…daily.”
“Ever?”
“Well, I do breathe every day, if that counts.”
Megan laughed. “Not the same. How far do you have to drive to the lunch spot?”
“About a mile.”
“Okay, the whole way there, breathe deeply and slowly, drawing air clear to the bottom of your lungs. Center yourself. Then go have lunch, focus on the case that’s going to make your career, and forget about one meaningless night of sex.”
That was the problem. As much as Colleen tried to claim differently, it hadn’t been meaningless. It had been beautiful and innocent and right. She still remembered the tears trickling from her eyes down the sides of her face to her ears after her first climax. Not because it had been bad, but because Eric made her feel safe in a way no one ever had before. Colleen’s belly tightened at the memory. “One night of mind-blowing sex,” she said, trying to focus on the physical rather than the emotional.
“Not so easy to forget then, huh?”
She bit her lip, feeling unsure. Unsure and hating herself for it. That was so her mother’s style. He was just a man. A man who hated her—she’d made sure of that after the fact. “I have to.”
“Then you will.”
Colleen’s throat closed. She wished she could be more like Megan, but they were cut from different bolts of cloth. She’d accepted that long ago. “Why do you believe in me more than I believe in myself?”
“That’s what best friends do. Now, breathe. And call me tonight and tell me all about it.”
“Okay.”
“And come in for a massage soon.”
“I will.”
“So…how does he look?”
“Megan! I can’t believe you’d ask me that in my time of stress,” Colleen said, but she couldn’t help laughing.
“Hey, you can’t blame me. He’s sort of legendary in the life and times of Colleen Delaney.”
“It was one night.” Keep telling yourself that.
“Yeah. I know. Of mind-blowing jungle sex. You don’t hear that phrase every day. So? How does the man look?”
A pause ensued.
“Amazing,” Colleen said ruefully, wishing he was paunchy and balding, with a big gin blossom nose, like the partners at her firm. That would make it so much easier not to feel. She couldn’t risk feeling. “He looks better than he did during school. Which totally sucks, I might add.”
“Well, don’t think about it. Try not to look at him.”
“Right. Helpful. Should I blur my eyes?”
Megan laughed softly again. “It’s all going to be fine in the end.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Now, go to lunch and do your thing.” A smooch sound carried over the line.
