Courtney: Present Day

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THE MASON FAMILY VS. Bryson Power & Water, Co.

I tried to keep my eyes focused on the document in front of me—a printout of a detailed timeline of incidents that led up to the case in question: a group of small-town families suing a huge utility company for poisoning their water supply.  The families lived two counties outside of Blue Harbor, and they were against coming to New York unless it was necessary, so we needed to make sure that we only took the documents we needed for the first trip.

This was the type of case I’d always dreamed of defending—serving up a plate of justice to a greedy corporation that had no regard for human life, but I was pretty sure Jace was never in that dream.

He was currently sitting across from me, highlighting his stack of documents and making phone calls every few minutes. Occasionally, he’d get up and make a new pot of coffee for us to share, but we barely said a word outside of “Coffee?” and “Yes” to each other.

The tension between us was just as thick and palpable as it was since the day he walked into Mr. Walton’s office, and every time I looked up at him, my heart betrayed me with a hard and fast rhythm.

I still couldn’t believe he went to law school and actually passed, let alone graduated at the top of his class.

He told me he wanted to be an actor...

Setting down the document, I pulled out my phone and noticed a text message from Mila.

MILA: Hey. Did you take my advice about that Jace guy yet?”

I rolled my eyes.

ME: No.

MILA: Why the hell not?

ME: Because that was terrible advice.

Her name crossed my screen via phone call, and I stood up. “Mr. Kennedy, can you excuse me for a second, please?” I stepped out of the library without waiting for his answer.

“Yes, Mila?” I whispered once I stepped into the hallway.

“So, why can’t you fuck him?” she asked. “It’s like fate that he’s the guy from the bar, right?”

“No, it’s the universe torturing me.” I groaned. “It’s also inappropriate.”

“Why? He’s not really your boss, just your supervisor. He’s clearly into you, and you went to high school together, right?” She popped her gum into my ear. “I showed his picture to all my friends, and they’re convinced he’s way too perfect to be real.”

“I used to think that too,” I said softly.

“How come you never mentioned him to me before? You’ve mentioned all your other past boyfriends.”

“It was high school,” I said. “A kiddie relationship from a long time ago. How’s your Cartier photoshoot going?”

“Fabulous! Can you give me three minutes to tell you about this new watch they let me wear?”

“Of course.”

I listened as she described it to me, feeling slightly guilty for abruptly changing the subject from Jace. The truth was, I’d never told anyone about my first true love. I’d let all the memories of my heartbreak sink to the bottom of my brain—weighted down by “fuck him” chains. I’d let the years go by in hopes that my feelings for him would never resurface and that we would never cross paths again.

“Hey Court?” Mila’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “The photographer’s back. I’ll call you later!”

“Okay, bye.” I ended the call and returned to the room. I noticed that Jace had put away all the files. “What are you doing?”

“Calling it a night,” he said. “We can pick things up tomorrow morning.”

“For a so-called good lawyer, you sure seem averse to pulling a necessary all-nighter.”

He smirked. “It’s eleven o’clock.”

“What’s your point?” I shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t leave here until three.

“And you still get in at seven in the morning?”

“I do.”

Looking impressed, he picked up his briefcase. “I’m willing to work on this some more with you tonight, but I need a change of scenery. I can’t take the lights in here anymore.”

“I’m not going to your place.”

“I didn’t say anything about my place,” he said. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, it’s actually quite convenient.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, picking up my coat. “We can go to my place. There’s an executive lounge on my floor we can use.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get my car keys from my office, and I’ll drive.”

“No, I was um—” I blushed. “We don’t have the best track record when it comes to sharing car rides, from what I remember.”

“I’m shocked you remember anything at all.” He smirked. “But, look. There’s no point in us taking two separate ways to get there. That’s a waste of our time. This is strictly professional, Courtney. I want to win this case, and I can assure you that I’ll leave as soon as we’re done working.” He looked genuine. “Meet you in the parking garage?”

“Okay.”

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TEN MINUTES LATER, I sat in the passenger seat of Jace’s Jaguar—trying to avoid looking over at him. The sexy scent of his cologne was turning me on, and I could feel him staring at me at every red light.

“You’re really going to make me wait until we get to Manhattan to give me your address?” he asked.

“I want to be sure there’s as little chance as possible that you’ll remember it in the morning.

He let out a low laugh and turned on the windshield wipers.

Years ago, in high school, he would entwine his hands in mine behind the gear shift and make up some bullshit story about how scientists had it all wrong about how snow came to be. He would tell it with a dead-ass serious face and remind me exactly why he was receiving a C plus in Science.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, turning down the radio.

“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Are you missing Seattle yet?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“There was nothing about it you liked?”

He didn’t answer. He kept driving.

“Mr. Walton must’ve really been impressed with you to let you have a car near his office without a probationary period. What was your win-loss record in Seattle?’

His lips curved into a smile and he glanced over at me. “You and I both know that you looked me up the second you realized I’d be working at your firm.”

“No, we both know your ego is still out of this goddamn world after all these years.” I refused to give him the satisfaction of being right, and I also refused to believe that all the things I’d read about him were true.

“I’ve never lost a case in my career,” he said. “And I don’t plan on losing this one.”

“Good to know.”

“What’s your address?”

“220 Park Avenue.”

“The Hamilton?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a pretty amazing place.”

“Interesting.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence and when we arrived at the parking garage, I pulled my guest pass out of my wallet.

“Here,” I said, handing it to him. “You’ll need to put this on your dashboard or security will have you towed away. You’re welcome.”

He let out a low laugh. “Thank you.”

He pulled into a spot near the front and I led him through the lobby. There was a crowd of people waiting to take the set of elevators, so I motioned for him to follow me down another hallway.

“Do you live on this floor?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Mr. Walton installed a separate elevator for the higher floors when he bought this place years ago. Maybe one day, if you get back on my good side, I’ll give you a tour.”

He smiled, but he didn’t say anything else. We rode up to my floor—number twenty-two, and I led him to the executive lounge.

“So, you live on this floor?” He looked confused.

“Were you living here last week?”

“I’ve been living here for quite a while.” I took off my coat and draped it over a chair. “No, you’re not welcome to come back whenever you like.”

He laughed and took a seat. “I’ll set up the files.”

“I’ll get us some cups for the coffee.”

I left and unlocked my apartment, changing into a pair of flats and sweatpants. When I returned to the lounge, he was sitting near the windows, reading over the utility company emails.

He looked me up and down as I approached with a cup of coffee, and I expected him to say something inappropriate, but he didn’t. He handed me the file I’d been reading at the office, and returned to reading.

For hours, the two of us sat without saying a word to each other.

I was highlighting a few lines from the CEO’s emails when I heard Jace clearing his throat.

“Yes, Mr. Kennedy?” I looked up.

“Is Taylor Swift your morning alarm music?”

“Yes.” I set my paper down. “Why?”

“Just guessing. I shouldn’t be surprised that you still don’t know what good music is.”

“You never did.” I rolled my eyes and closed the file. “I guess we’ll pick this back up tomorrow. I can walk you out if you like.”

“I would.” He put his files away and stood up.

I left the room and walked to the elevator, but he didn’t follow me. Instead, he stood in the hallway as if he were expecting an invitation to stay the night.

“You promised that you were going to keep things professional.” I hit the down button.

“I am keeping them professional.”

“So, allow me to walk you to the lobby,” I said. “Or else, I’ll be forced to call security.”

He smirked. “And say what?”

“That someone who does not live here is trying to stay the night.”

The elevator doors sprung open, and I motioned for him to step onto the cart. “I also need my parking pass back.”

“Hmmm.” He walked to the apartment door that was next to mine and pulled out a set of keys, smirking as he unlocked it, then he pushed it open. “Tell you what, I’ll let you have my parking pass, and we’ll call it even. How about that?”

I felt all color leaving my face, my jaw dropping to the floor.

“You knew I lived next door to you the entire time?”

“No,” he said, still smirking. “I just realized it tonight. But now that I know, there’s no reason for us not to get reacquainted. I’m available whenever you want.”

I didn’t say anything. I was still in too much shock.

I resorted to my usual tactic. Get the hell out of dodge, i.e., rushing to my apartment and shutting the door.

WHAT. THE. FUCK?