Call To Redemption. Tawny Weber
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Darby wanted that spot. It’d be a big shiny feather in her cap, to say nothing of a smooth jump over a few rungs on the success ladder.
She was good enough. She had a solid rep, an impressive case-closure rate in cybercrimes and human trafficking. And she had the support of a number of influential higher-ups. But her age, her lack of experience arguing terrorism cases and the new head of Human Resources’ fixation on a healthy work-life balance were working against her.
She couldn’t do anything about her age, but thought her work on the Antiterrorism Advisory Council helped offset her lack of trial experience in matters of national security. Which left that work-life-balance crap. Darby grimaced.
Hence, Grace’s answer... Vacation.
As if reading her mind, Grace said, “Office pool puts you at three days, fourteen hours before you give up and hop a flight home.”
“Any idea if Jenkins is in on that pool?” she asked, referring to the new head of Human Resources.
“You know the bets are confidential,” Grace chided.
“So?”
“He puts you at two days.”
Darby smiled—leave it to Grace. That ability to ferret out the tiniest of details was one of the woman’s best traits. Between that, enough tenacity to do a bulldog proud and a personality that blended like butter with anyone anywhere, the woman made a stellar legal secretary.
A fact for which Darby was forever grateful.
She’d gone through four secretaries in her first two weeks at the Southern California office and had been well on her way to cementing her reputation as a hard-ass with an attitude. That part she hadn’t minded, but the changeover and lack of decent help had put a serious crimp in her plans toward career stardom. That, and having to remember the names of the parade of secretaries had worn on her last nerve. When Grace Nulty had walked in the door looking like someone’s favorite aunt, she hadn’t bothered adding the redhead’s name to her cheat sheet.
Within five weeks, the cheat sheet was trashed and Darby was satisfactorily tracking her way toward career stardom again. Not only did Grace keep up with Darby’s breakneck pace, but she also anticipated, intuited and, when necessary, argued.
All awesome things.
Until she’d turned them on Darby herself.
First it’d been her relentless pursuit of friendship. Darby was perfectly content—happy, even—to be friendless in the workplace. As far as she was concerned, office-based friendships only led to trouble. Especially in a job as competitive and cutthroat as hers.
She still wasn’t sure how the other woman had outflanked her, but somehow, they’d become friends. But not even Darby, a woman who argued for a living, had been strong enough to win against Grace’s relentless cheer and focused determination.
She’d used that same cheer and determination to convince Darby that a week of luaus and lying on the beach would help her career.
Damn the woman.
It wasn’t that Darby had moral or religious objections to vacations...
She just didn’t see the point.
Oh, sure, maybe she should have taken a big celebratory vacation last year when she’d become a federal prosecutor. A lot of people had said making Assistant US Attorney by the time she was twenty-seven was an amazing accomplishment. Others had muttered about nepotism, citing Darby’s late father’s reputation with the federal prosecutor’s office for her foot up onto the fast track.
But Darby had learned young to ignore what people said. As always, she’d aimed her focus on work. On finding the quickest climb up the ladder her father had chosen for her when she was ten. And nowhere on that ladder was there room for vacations. Work, education, networking. That was her focus. Her only focus.
She’d have happily continued her vacationless lifestyle if Grace hadn’t ferreted out that the HR exec was reluctant to recommend Darby for the new position. The woman was a stickler for that wimpy work-life balance she was always lecturing Darby on.
“I’ll make the entire eight days,” Darby vowed in answer to Grace’s comment about the office pool. Not just for the shot at the promotion, but because she was hardwired to prove that she could do whatever anyone said she couldn’t.
“I have every faith that you will. But do it right, okay? Treat it like a vacation, not a point of pride. Prove that you can have a life outside of work.”
“My career is my life,” she said with a sassy smile. But her sass turned into a sigh as soon as the words were out.
That catchphrase had been her personal mantra since graduating law school. A mantra she loved epitomizing because it made her feel powerful, and dammit, kept her on the fast track to success.
A mantra that had, quite recently, been thrown in her face along with a whole lot of other accusations that were probably just as true.
“Don’t start doubting yourself,” Grace responded, obviously reading her mind. The mothering tone came over the line like a finger shake with a hug on the side.
“Why would I doubt myself?”
Just because the guy she’d dated for eight months had accused her of caring about nothing except her career, to say nothing of being coldhearted, narrow-minded and obsessive.
“Exactly. Why would you?” Grace responded. “You’re a powerhouse. Darby Raye, Assistant US Attorney. Powerhouse federal prosecutor. Ballbuster, crime fighter, law wielder. You take no crap from anyone on your fast flight up the ladder of success. If a guy can’t handle that, too bad.”
“Exactly,” Darby agreed with a laugh. And she did agree. She’d never made a secret of her ambitions or her priorities.
But maybe Paul had had a few points. It’d been her obsessive focus on her career that had kept her from noticing the telltale warning signs that he saw their relationship as something much more serious than she did.
Darby had dated the man for almost four months while she was still living in Virginia. The JAG attorney had thought it was romantic to transfer from Little Creek to the San Diego naval base. She, on the other hand, thought it was creepy.
But knowing the value of well-placed bridges, influential circles and tiptoeing around fragile male egos, it’d taken her three months of letting him down gently to break it off.
And another one to convince him that it was actually over.
She should have skipped worrying about bridges and circles and tramped his damn ego as soon as he’d shown up on her doorstep in San Diego, Darby thought with a grimace.
Still, she had considered Paul Thomas