Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Come in!”
I opened the door. I’d wondered if Dawson had been avoiding me all afternoon, but it looked like he was up to his eyeballs in work. His desk was covered in papers and a half-dozen red file folders. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and his tie was gone. I was pretty sure he’d been running a hand through his thick hair. I found the disheveled look oddly sexy.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I’m going to head out. I emailed you the motion on the Emerson file and put together everything for the discovery request on Catalano.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to be here late?”
“Probably. The ADA sent over two last-minute witness additions on the Fanning case that goes to trial next week. I’m trying to figure out what the hell they have to do with anything. Whatever I find could change my entire strategy, and I was almost done with trial prep.”
“Shoot. Okay, well, if you need help, I can always come in this weekend.”
“Thanks. But I’ll figure it out.” He did a quick sweep over my legs and frowned. “You better get going so you’re not late for your date.”
He said the last word like it tasted bad in his mouth. Though his eyes went back to the work on his desk, so maybe I was misreading things again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” He glanced up.
“What do you think might’ve happened if I hadn’t been drunk that night at the cabin?”
He shrugged. “I guess you wouldn’t have tried to seduce me.”
“What if I had?”
“Had what?”
“Tried to seduce you that night, but I was sober?”
Dawson’s eyes burned into mine before he answered. “I don’t have to wonder what might’ve happened, because I know. You wouldn’t have been able to walk the next day.”
Oh my. My jaw hung open.
Dawson raised a brow. “Any other questions?”
“Umm… No.”
“Where is your date taking you?”
“It’s not a date. He’s seeing someone. We’re just two old friends catching up.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure he doesn’t think it’s a date.”
“You don’t know anything about Simon.”
“Maybe not. But it’s rare a man only wants to be friends with a woman he’s attracted to, and you two have obviously dated before.”
“Simon doesn’t think it’s a date. Neither of us does.”
“No? Where are you going for dinner? I can tell you this guy’s intentions based on that.”
“How?”
“There’s a difference in where I’d have dinner with someone like Lily and where I’d take a date. Le Pavilion, Veronika, or Raoul’s? He’s trying to impress you and wants to take you home with him. Fresco, Meat, or Oscar Wilde? He’ll make sure you get in the Uber but won’t try to climb in after you.”
I felt my cheeks heat. No way in hell I was sharing that this afternoon Simon had texted and changed going out to dinner to ordering in at his place. So I ignored him. “Have a good night.”
Dawson picked up his pen and started to write on a legal pad. “I’d say the same,” he noted without looking up. “But I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
***
“Earth to Naomi…”
I blinked a few times and found Simon staring at me. “Sorry.” I forced a smile. “My brain is stuck at work.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Dawson had said, “You wouldn’t have been able to walk the next day” at the office. Two hours later, I still couldn’t stop his words from replaying in my head.
Simon smiled back. “Some things never change. You used to get lost in your head when you studied too. I asked if you want some wine?”
“Oh, sure. That would be great. Thank you.”
He stood. “I did a cleft palate on a little girl whose family makes their own wine. They brought me two bottles the day they came for her post-surgical checkup. It’s the best Cab I’ve ever tasted. I brought one home with me for you to try, because I know it’s your favorite.”
“I can’t believe you remember my favorite wine.”
“We drank enough of it up at the cabin we’d rented in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Remember, you kept swearing the old guy sitting alone in the bar was Mick Jagger? You put on ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’ and were acting it out on the dance floor.”
I covered my face as I laughed. “Oh my God. Why do you have to remember everything? That woman was not happy when I asked to take a picture and told her who I thought she was.”
A pop came from the kitchen, followed by the gluck-gluck sound of wine being poured into glasses. Simon came back into the living room just as I finished unpacking the last of the Chinese takeout from the bag.
“You ordered enough for six people.”
“I couldn’t decide what to get. I’ve missed my Friday-night Chinese takeout.”
He passed me a wine glass and took a seat on the rug diagonally across from me at the coffee table. I liked that he’d suggested we eat like this instead of at the table. It brought me back to our college days. “Do you still do pizza on Tuesdays, too?”