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However, he decided to stay out of that decision and let Reilly tell her big sister that news herself.
Because his momma didn’t raise no fool.
Justice whined and nudged Deacon’s hand as he pressed an ear to his office door, listening to a worked-up Reese giving someone a lesson about out-of-court settlements and why it benefitted them.
She was so fucking good at it. At both teaching those lessons and her legal expertise.
His dick was hard and heavy in his jeans from what she was saying and how she was saying it.
However, her patience was at a breaking point. He had quickly learned what that point was and what it meant to him when it came to asking her to pull up her skirt so he could give her the business.
And he wasn’t talking lawyer business.
Listening in, he could tell she was approaching that tipping point at lightning speed. That meant he needed to intervene and quickly.
He tried the knob and was relieved when it wasn’t locked. Pushing open the door, he blocked Justice from joining them and quickly closed the dog out in the hallway. He heard a muffled whine but having Justice in the office with him when naked body parts were flopping around within nose reach wasn’t smart.
An uncomfortable lesson learned.
Eventually, Justice would get bored waiting and head back into Judge’s office to hang with Jury.
He turned and Reese’s narrowed green eyes practically pinned him to the door. She made a face, tucked her cell phone between her shoulder and ear, then made a strangling motion with her hands.
Thank fuck that wasn’t meant for him.
“Okay, Tom, let me deal with this... Yes... I have it under control, Tom... Okay... I understand. I’ll let you know once I talk to them and see what the counteroffer is...” She dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes... Sure, Tom...” Her knuckles were turning white while holding the cell. “I understand. We’re on the same page... Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”
She pulled the phone from her ear, jabbed at the End button more times, and with more force, than necessary and slapped it face down on the desk. She dropped her head into her folded arms and growled.
Oh yeah, she was all worked up. Her blood was pumping and now all Deke had to do was get her to focus that frustrated energy into a frenzied quickie. He stopped himself from rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
He should’ve told Judge to put in some earplugs or something.
She lifted her head, a few strands of her hair falling loose from her bun and framing her now bruise-free face. “They hire me to represent them. To make the best deal for their company without going to court. They should let me do what I do best and stop fucking trying to mansplain what I need to do. I know what the fuck I need to do, that’s why they pay me three hundred an hour.”
Deacon’s step stuttered as he moved closer. “What?”
Her green eyes hit his again, quickly changing from annoyance to confusion. “What?”
“What was the last thing you said?”
She frowned. “My billable rate?”
“You charge three hundred fuckin’ bucks an hour?”
“That’s not much.”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
“Deacon, that’s not much for an experienced civil litigator.”
“It ain’t?”
“Well, up here, it’s on the high side. But down in Philly or Pittsburgh, it would be a basement rate. Even though my rate’s at the top of the chart for this area and the area of law I concentrate on...” The breath hissed out of her and she did a slight shrug. “I’m worth it.”
He stared at the woman behind his desk. She stared back. Neither blinked.
Finally, she asked, “Did you lock the door?”
“Did you want me to?”
“Isn’t that why you’re in here?”
“Maybe I just want to ask you to lunch.”
She made a yeah, right face. “No, you don’t.”
He wasn’t done talking about the bomb she just dropped. “How much did your ex make?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“I don’t know... He was salaried. What does this have to do with anything?”
“You made more than him, right?”
“Didn’t I tell you that?” She released an impatient sigh. “The harder I work, the more I make. His salary was what it was. Why does this matter, Deke? Are women not allowed to make more than their spouse?”
“For some, probably not. It emasculates them.”
Her lips quirked at his use of a word she didn’t expect him to know. “Would you feel emasculated if your woman made more than you?”
“Fuck no. Truth? That shit makes me hard. Powerful women like you turn me the fuck on.”
“Would it drive you to work harder and make more?”
“No. Know why?”
Her lips twitched again. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Because there’s more to life than work, Reese. A lot fuckin’ more. Our life starts the day we’re born, it ends the day we die. We’re supposed to live life in between those two major moments.”
