I arrived at my office earlier than usual on Monday morning.

“Good morning, Bev,” I said cheerily to our front desk receptionist.

“You’re in a good mood for a Monday?” she questioned.

“What is there to be down about?”

“It’s hot as Hades, jury selection for the Delaney murder trial starts tomorrow, it’s Monday ... just to name a few,” she said dryly.

“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” I said, taking the list of missed calls and messages from her outstretched hand.

“Oh, you met a man, didn’t you?” She raised her eyebrow at me. I laughed. She knew me so well. Beverly was in her early fifties and had been at the law firm for more than 20 years. But we were good friends, even with our age difference.

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t call Gabriel, did you?”

“No!” I protested. She looked at me skeptically. “I promise.”

“So then tell me about the man responsible for putting the bounce back in your step.”

“Let’s just say it was a great weekend.” I winked and headed to my office.

“You better give me all the details!” she called out to me as I walked down the hall.

I was sitting at my desk, pouring over the files for the Delaney case that I had neglected all weekend, when my phone pinged with a new email. I smiled when I saw it was from Jameson.

It had no subject and only one line.

When can I see you again?

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. My thighs clenched at the memories of the other night. The need to be in control and stroke our egos had only fueled the fire between us. The constant wrestling match between us made everything that much hotter.

I resisted the urge to reply immediately. I wanted to see him as soon as possible, but I didn’t want to appear needy and desperate.

I put my phone aside and dove back into juror profiles for the murder case. This case had consumed all my time for the last several months and could be a turning point in my career. Josh Delaney, millionaire playboy, and heir to the Delaney Construction empire was being charged with murder for the death of his girlfriend. I was being paid top dollar to ensure the 25-year-old didn’t spend the rest of his life in prison.

I wasn’t sure if Josh was innocent, but there was more than enough circumstantial evidence to convince a jury he was, so long as we picked the right jury members. Jury selection in a high-profile case like this could take days. We had a pool of more than 200 people, which we had to narrow down to the twelve men and women who would decide the fate of Josh Delaney. He swore he was innocent, but there were no witnesses to back up his story, which would make convincing the jury that much more difficult.

It was after 1:00 when Bev knocked on my door. My stomach growled at the sight of the sandwich in her hand.

“Thank you,” I said, standing and taking the sandwich and grabbing a bottle of water out of my mini-fridge.

“You haven’t come out of this office for five hours now, so I figured you were probably starving.”

“You know me too well.” She sat down on one of the chairs facing my desk and didn’t say anything while I devoured half my sandwich.

“What’s going on with the construction down the hallway?” I asked.

“A new lawyer is starting next week.” Bev shifted in her seat.

“Really? Who?” We were a fairly small firm. New employees were usually known weeks before they arrived.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Bev said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. This was suspicious.

“It means I can’t tell you. Are you going to tell me about the guy?” I raised my eyebrow at her and swallowed my bite before I answered her.

“Bev, he was perfect,” I said.

“Better than Gabriel?” She raised an eyebrow, and I laughed. She had heard all my stories praising Gabriel as a sex god.

“Way better.” The truth was the last few days had been the first time in months I hadn’t had a single thought about Gabriel and his tanned, toned body.

“I want to be you when I grow up,” Bev said matter-of-factly. “Gorgeous blonde with a kick-ass career and the hottest men at her disposal. Forget Cinderella, I want to live in your world.”

I laughed again.

“And leave Ben?” I asked playfully, because I already knew the answer. Ben and Beverly had been married for nearly thirty years and still acted like teenagers in love. A twinge of jealousy swept through me at the thought of their happy marriage. It was something I had always thought I wanted. But I gave up on that dream years ago. Men, especially the men I knew, didn’t value marriage like they used to.

“Just wait, one day someone will sweep you off your feet and you’ll understand,” Bev said, bringing me back to the conversation.

“We’ll see,” I shrugged noncommittally. That had already happened once, and it wasn’t going to happen again. I wouldn’t let it.

“So tell me the details!” Bev broke through my melancholy. Just then, the phone on my desk started ringing. Bev groaned and stood up. “You’re not off the hook.” She gathered my garbage and left the room.

“Neither are you!” I called after her, before answering the phone.

“The prosecution is filing for a continuance,” Mark, my partner on the Delaney case said without a hello.

“What? The hell they are,” I said, shifting papers around on my desk. “If they aren’t ready, that’s too bad.”

“Judge wants us in his chambers in an hour.”

“I’ll be there. There is no way we are pushing this trial out even further.”

In the back of the cab on the way to the courthouse, I replied to Jameson’s email. I sent him my phone number and a short message.

8:30 tomorrow night. Meet me at the Four Seasons Hotel bar.

Less than five minutes later, my phone rang. The number on the screen wasn’t one I recognized.

“What if I have plans tomorrow night?” Jameson said when I answered.

“Hi, Jameson, how are you?”

“I’ve got a meeting with my new bosses in fifteen minutes, so I don’t have time for chit-chat, Olivia.”

“Call me back when you’ve remembered I’m not one of your Barbies who does whatever they're told,” I said sarcastically. Jameson growled on the other end of the line, and I smirked to myself. He still didn’t like being challenged by a woman.

“I’ve got blue balls from thinking about you all weekend.”

“I can help you with that,” I purred.

“Meet me tonight.”

“I can’t. I’ve got work.” With this interruption to my day, I’d be up half the night studying juror profiles, assuming I could convince the judge to deny the State’s motion for a continuance. “Tomorrow, 8:30.”

“I’ll be there,” Jameson said roughly. “And Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“Wear something that shows off your incredible tits.” I laughed loud enough the cab driver eyed me suspiciously in the rear-view mirror. “What’s so funny?”

“I thought you realized I don’t take orders?” I said as the cab pulled up to the curb of the courthouse. Jameson mumbled something under his breath, but I ignored him. “I’ve got to go, see you tomorrow.” I hung up before he could respond, tucked my phone in my purse, and went inside to argue my case.