Hey, Max…” Phoebe calls from my living room.

I set two mugs down on the counter next to the coffeemaker. “Yeah?”

“When you took off my panties last night, did you toss them to the left or the right?”

I smile and walk back into the living room.

Phoebe’s on the floor on her hands and knees, wearing nothing but her tight, black dress. She peeks beneath my couch and chairs, searching for the rest of her outfit with her bra in one hand and her boots stacked together by the coffee table.

I try and think back to last night but my attention instantly focuses on her round rear pointing up into the air.

“Uh…” My tired cock twitches in my slacks. Honestly, I’m surprised there’s even any life remaining after last night. “Left?”

“Hmm…” She sits back on her knees. “I checked there.”

“Right?”

“No…” She glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes quickly falling to my bare chest before shifting to an accusatory smirk. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” I answer.

She blushes as she stands up. “Well, you must have a gnome or something because I can’t find them.”

“They’ll turn up.” I step back into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

“I think I have time for a cup.” She scans the room again. “And make it a strong one.”

“Rough day ahead?”

She holds back a yawn as she steps into her boots. “No. Well, kind of. I have a phone call with my boss’ son-in-law. He wrote a book, they want me to publish it, but it sucks, and I don’t wanna.”

I grin. “I have to sit at a table with an Italian mobster and prep him for a deposition that’s somehow supposed to prove he didn’t shoot a rival gangster in the face with a double-barreled shotgun that has his fingerprints all over it.”

“Yeesh.” She cringes as she walks toward the counter to stand beside me. “You win.”

I fill her coffee mug and slide it over to her. “Just your average Friday morning at Monahan and Moon. Attorneys for the rich and horrible.”

Phoebe tilts her head, showing a short smile that tickles my insides. “Well, one of these days, when the sign says Monahan, Moon, and Monahan, maybe your Friday mornings will be much sweeter.”

I scoff. “It took twenty years before my father let the name Moon on the sign. There’s no way he’s letting another Monahan overshadow his legacy while he’s still breathing. And besides, I don’t think any Friday morning will ever be as sweet as this one is.”

She stands there speechless, just as I intended. I lean in, inching closer to kiss her, but a firm knock on my door slows me down.

Phoebe draws back. “You expecting company?”

“No.”

Another knock. This time, harder and impatient.

“Max, open up!”

I exhale at his gruff voice. “Well, shit.”

“Who is that?” she asks.

“That… is my dad.”

“Wow…” A grin spreads over her face. “You know, I’ve been waiting my entire life for an opportunity to say this.”

I ignore the third round of knocks. “Say what?”

“Speak of the devil.”

I laugh but my mind twists for a way out of this. “Phoebe, would you duck into my room for a sec? Just until I find out what he wants…”

She shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.”

She snatches her coffee mug off the counter before retreating into my room like I asked. It’s for her own good. She’s way better off without the awkward encounter with my father as she walks out wearing the dress she wore last night...

“Max!”

I sigh and march toward my foyer before he manages to pound a hole through my damn door.

“Hang on!” I shout as I slide the chain free and flick the lock open.

Before I even open it an inch, he charges inside. “Where the hell were you this morning?” he barks.

I furrow my brow. “Depo-prep isn’t until ten.”

He blinks his puffy, red eyes. “We rescheduled it for eight — which you’d know if you ever answered your damn phone last night. Where have you been?”

I move to close the door but a foot blocks it.

“Whoa— watch it! Coming through…”

David pokes his fuzzy head inside. I reluctantly let him in as the hairs stick up on the back of my neck. My father seeing my date from last night leaving? Awkward as fuck. David Larkin seeing my date from last night leaving — and realizing that it’s Phoebe Pink?

I’ll never hear the end of it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I was parking the car.”

Dad stomps his foot like a child. “I asked you a question, Max!”

I push the door closed and walk toward my couch to fetch my pants off the floor, still lying there from last night. I fish into the back pocket for my phone. Nine missed calls. Fourteen new texts.

“Sorry,” I say, swiping through them. “I was distracted.”

David stands there by the door, trying and failing to hold back his grin as he glances at my clothes strung out around the living room. If they had been just ten minutes earlier, they’d have seen Phoebe’s clothing, too. At least I can breathe a relief at that.

Dad’s not as amused. “Well, whatever this distraction was, I hope it was worth it because you are this close to blowing this entire case. Brittany Ives is the prosecutor, Max. You need to be on your game with her or she’ll bury you alive.”

“Dad, chill out,” I say. “I’m not even the lead on the case. Dave is.”

“Like hell, he is.” He points a sharp finger at me. “Get your shit together. Get dressed. I want you at the office and ready to go in twenty minutes. Got it?”

I bite my tongue. As much as I’d like to argue with him about this case — yet again — I’m not quite as eager to get into it with Phoebe possibly listening in from the other room.

Dad bolts to the door and throws it open, almost smacking David with it in the process but he dodges out of the way. We stand still, listening to him as he stomps down the hall to the elevator.

David clears his throat, his sly eyes gesturing toward my feet.

I look down. Phoebe’s panties lie by my foot. Lacy, black… and large.

She must not have checked under my pants.

I bend down and scoop them up. “See you at the office, Dave,” I say, stuffing them into my closed fist.

He nods silently and takes another quick glance around as he turns and walks out, kindly closing the door behind him.

I exhale until I can’t anymore.

“Max?”

Phoebe pokes her head in from the hallway. Locks of red hair spill over her big eyes as she glances around.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say, scratching my forehead. “Sorry about that.”

She walks out and sets her mug on the counter. “No worries. Does your dad usually show up at your place and yell at you like that?”

“More often than I care to admit. Unfortunately.” I open my fist and hold her panties out to her.

Her face lights up as she snatches them from me. “You are the master of finding my undies, Max Monahan.”

I chuckle. “So it would seem.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get out of here,” she says, bending down and sliding them up under her dress.

“Might want to wait a few minutes,” I say. “At least until he leaves the building, ya know?”

She pauses. “You scared he’ll see me or something?”

“No,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that.”

“Then, why do I feel like a dirty little secret right now?”

“You’re not. Really. I just prefer to keep my work life separate from my bedroom life.”

Her face screws up. “Bedroom life?”

“Dad technically counts as both work life and personal life,” I say. “I gotta draw a line somewhere.”

Her expression slowly twists into a light chuckle as she accepts the answer. “So… who was the other guy?”

“David Larkin.”

She cringes. “You work with David Larkin?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll just…” she leans into the counter, “hang out here for a few more minutes.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.” I reach out and push a few strands of hair behind her ear. “We should do this again.”

Her eyes sparkle. “We should?”

“Absolutely.” I flash a smile, drawing her in. “Maybe we can hit up somewhere in your neighborhood next. I don’t get to travel to the north side too often.”

“Sure,” she nods, “if you don’t mind run-down fast food joints and questionable Taiwanese cuisine.”

I chuckle. “Well, I’ll cook. How does that sound?”

She feigns a gasp. “You cook?”

“I’ve been known to cook, yes.” I shrug. “Okay, I’ve been known to grill steak and potatoes, but still…”

Her smile spreads. “I like steak and potatoes.”

“It’s a date, then.” I lean down to kiss her cheek, soft and warm. “I’m going to be pretty tied down this weekend but how about Tuesday?”

“I don’t know.” She tilts her head. “I’ll have to double-check my— yes. Tuesday. Tuesday is perfect.”

“Good.” I laugh. “You really aren’t a dirty little secret, Phoebe. I just don’t…”

“Don’t what?” she asks.

I take in her face for a long moment. “I don’t want to jinx this.”

She smiles. “Welcome to my life.”

I nudge her chin and she tilts upward to let me kiss her again. “Your life, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What else do you have going on that’s so jinxable?”

Her brow rises. “If I tell you, then wouldn’t that jinx it?”

I chuckle. “You make an excellent point.”

She kisses me again, then pulls back to reach for her mug. “Actually… I’m up for a promotion,” she says.

“Oh, yeah?”

Her head bobs as she swallows a healthy sip. “It’s pretty big.”

“How big?”

“New York City big.”

“Whoa…” I say, leaning back. “Big Apple big.”

She grins with shining, excited eyes. “And it all probably hinges on this stupid book.”

My guts twinge out of nowhere. “When do you find out?”

“Two weeks,” she answers.

“Two weeks…” I repeat. “That’s soon.”

“Not soon enough, to be honest. I feel nervous about it all the time.”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She sighs and raises her mug again. “I hope so. Lived here my whole life, you know? So ready to finally get out of here.”

I bite down, flexing my jaw to choke down the sour taste traveling along my tongue.

She sets the empty mug down on the counter and the sudden clank makes my nerves twitch. “Should be safe to go now, you think?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Definitely. Dad’s not one to dawdle.”

Phoebe pops up onto the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek. “See you on Tuesday,” she says.

I take hold of her wrist as she tries to turn away and draw her back in for a proper, harder kiss. She laughs against my lips but holds us together for one long, blissful moment.

“Bye, Phoebe,” I whisper.

She snatches her purse and moves backward through my kitchen, eying me on her way to my door.

“Bye, Max,” she says, laying two fingers on her plump lips and blowing me a kiss.

I watch her leave, refusing to take my eyes off her until the door closes.

Phoebe’s leaving. Los Angeles, that is.

That shouldn’t bother me. We barely know each other. We’ve gone on one official date. One. Why does this bother me? Does it actually bother me?

Fuck, what is this feeling?

Fuck.