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Infuriated by his words—and by the truth buried in them—she shoved away from her desk and stood. “Fuck you, Manny. An undergrad degree in psych doesn’t give you the right to—fuck it.”
She grabbed her tote and spun toward the door.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Sara, please.”
She paused in the doorway, her back to him.
“Where are you going?”
She didn’t have a clue. What she wanted was Luke, but she wasn’t about to admit that to herself or Manny. “Coffee. For some reason, I’ve developed a headache. And I want it gone before my meeting with Porter.”
“Aw, hell. Sara, you know I’m an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are.” She hesitated, then looked back at him. “But it doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”
She flashed him an apologetic smile, then headed out. Now that she’d said it, grabbing a latte from the outdoor kiosk sounded like one hell of a good idea.
She made it almost to the building’s main entrance when she heard her name. She paused, scouring the area, then found Petra hurrying toward her, her brother Kiril keeping pace beside her.
“Slumming at the courthouse?”
“Research in the clerk’s office.” Petra made a face. She much preferred fieldwork.
“Hey, Kir,” Sara said, nodding toward the Goliath of a man who, Sara assumed, played football in high school. If he hadn’t, his alma mater had seriously missed out. A private investigator and Petra’s boss, Kir had always seemed like more of a bodyguard, having taken over the head-of-household role after their parents’ deaths.
“You got a sec?” Petra asked, then edged Sara to the side and away from Kiril before Sara could answer. “Well? Did you meet up later?”
Sara only grinned. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I knew it. Tell me everything.”
“Everything would take longer than we have. I need a coffee, then I’m supposed to meet Porter. He shot me an email this morning.”
“But you like him?”
“Porter?”
Petra’s brows came together above her nose. “Do not even pretend not to understand me.”
Sara felt the smile on her lips as she said, “Yeah. I really do.”
“Name?”
“Luke.”
Petra twirled her hand in agimme moremotion, but Sara just shrugged. “You’re shitting me. You didn’t get his last name?”
“Sorry.”
“Seriously? You’re a prosecutor. You didn’t think to run a background check?”
“Hello? Where was the caution when you were shoving me in his direction? Besides,” she added with a wicked grin. “I like to live dangerously.”
“That’s a figure of speech, not an actual life plan.”
“And again I point out that you were my number one enabler.”
One of the courtroom doors opened and a cluster of attorneys swarmed out. Petra edged Sara away from the flood. “Vicarious living. I need details. And do you want me to dust your place for prints? I’ll run him for free.”
