“Is last night part of the equation?”

“Yeah.” He tucked his phone against his shoulder and took in the rustic coziness of her meeting room. The same rough-hewn timbers he’d seen in her house, lined the ceiling. The woodsy effect combined with small brass embellishments—the doorknob, the window pulls, tiny plaques on her reference library—and added a touch of elegance. Just like her.

“No. I don’t usually have appointments until 9:30, and court is rarely ever on Mondays. Why?”

“Just wondering. Thanks.”

“Oh-kay…Anything else you need?”

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Not that you’re willing to give.”

That earned him a fast disconnect. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed his folder of notes off the table and exited the room. “See you in the morning, Stephanie,” he called as he crossed the reception room.

“Oh, you’re off too?”

“Have some phone calls to make.” Like to Miles, to stress the severity of his claims.

Brad shouldered open the glass front door and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. Even with a good two feet of snow blanketing the ground, it felt warmer here than New York winters. Odd. Maybe it was the sunlight. Or maybe just the wide, open space unhindered by the tall, block-to-block skyscrapers that always cast shadows over the streets.

Whatever it was, as he glanced around at the neighboring strip mall office buildings, the distant ski lifts dotting the hills, and the skyward-reaching pines with their caps of snow, another foreign, entirely unsettling pang struck behind his ribs.

Chapter Ten

Cassie pulled into her driveway, tired, frustrated, and confused. As a rule, in case her clients needed something urgently, she rarely left the office before five. But she’d had to escape. Had to find space to think, to sift through what she instinctually wanted, and what she knew she couldn’t emotionally or professionally afford. And she needed to plan a strategy to deal with the drastic claims against Jennifer’s brother.

She sat for several minutes with the engine running, staring at the garage door she only ever used in the summertime. The grey-white expanse was evidence of how Chris had taken over her will. She’d wanted the garage to keep the snow off the cars. But its backward slope, and the direction it faced, only made it a wonderful snow block. Chris had despised shoveling the deep layers when they accumulated, and so, she’d given up on using the garage, because she didn’t want to ask him to go out of his way.

With his gallant way of spoiling her to death, he would have broken his back clearing snow to keep her from picking up a shovel, but he would have resented the chore. His hard work would conclude with thorny remarks that would go on for days. If she’d attempted to do the shoveling herself, he’d have been insulted. So their arrangement remained—even after she skidded on the ice three years into their marriage and broke her ankle.

Perfect on the surface. Not so perfect on the inside.

She punched the button on the garage door opener. He’d been gone three years. She should have been using the garage long before now. Just like it shouldn’t have taken her two years to decide to follow her passion when it came to law.

Darkness engulfed her as she pulled in. Brad offered her everything she wanted—crazy spontaneity, freedom with her body, and passion…oh, the passion. It wasn’t like they were talking long-term. One week, maximum, didn’t leave much of a risk of being discovered. All she had to do was reach out and hang on for the ride.

But it was the ride she feared. The greater concern of becoming so attached to Brad that she lost herself all over again. The very real likelihood that when he left, he’d take her heart with him. The fact that he already had her considering crossing ethical boundaries that she’d never have considered two days ago. What kind of damage would he wreak on her if she let this thing between them continue? What she wanted, what she needed was founded in trust, and there was simply no way she could trust a man who clearly didn’t intend to let this go beyond temporary fling. Much less a man who, as opposing counsel, was required to keep secrets and didn’t hesitate to pull punches as he desired. Today alone screamed she couldn’t trust his motives. He might have apologized and claimed he thought she knew, but his reputation preceded him—this wasn’t the first bomb he’d ever dropped to sway things in his favor.




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