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I hurried up to the eighteenth floor, where, thanks to a lucky right turn from the elevator, I found the office I needed in under a minute. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I knocked on the door.
“Come in, Miss Jacobs.” In person, the sexy voice I’d listened to on the phone was quiet and somehow deeper.
I stepped into a beautiful example of what a lawyer’s office was supposed to look like, at least as compared to all the TV shows I’d watched. The walls were a dark, polished wood, lined with bookcases packed to the brim with volume after volume of whatever it was that lawyers used to do their work.
In contrast to the heavy, traditional décor, Mr. Parker’s desk was a wide, modern looking L-shaped concoction that took up a big chunk of the room. Behind it was a wall with diplomas, certificates, and all the accolades that I guessed made someone a hot-shot attorney.
His floor-to-ceiling windows provided an amazing view right down the street to the county courthouse, a tired old building where I’d once gone on a field trip when I was a kid.
But the most impressive thing about the office was the man behind the desk.
My heart skipped a beat, and because of that, I tripped a little on the thick, luscious carpet under my feet, righting myself like I’d done it on purpose.
Idiot.
My new boss—or one of many, I supposed—rose in what, at the moment, seemed like slow motion, unfolding his long limbs and stretching to a height of at least a good twelve inches taller than me. By the time I reached the chairs set up in front of his desk, he was smiling down on me with dimples that threatened to make me trip over my feet again. But fortunately, I’d stopped walking before I could.
He looked more like a superhero than a boring old lawyer.
“Miss Jacobs, welcome to the firm,” he said, offering me a hand.
His grip was warm and strong, not like that of a guy who held back when he shook with a woman because they were ‘fragile.’
My father had taught me long ago how to shake. In fact, we’d practiced until my hand hurt.
“I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” I asked, and he nodded, gesturing that I should take one of the seats opposite him.
He buttoned his suit coat and walked around his desk to take the chair next to mine. His knees ended up just inches from mine, making our conversation more… intimate. And in looking at this man,intimatewas definitely a word most women wouldn’t mind using to describe their time with him.
But I was at work, on my first day. I needed to focus.
Mr. Parker folded his hands in his lap and smiled. “You know, when Dimitri got in touch, saying he wanted to call in a favor I owed him and give someone a job, I was a little worried at first.”
And for good reason.
“How do you know Dimitri?” I asked breezily.
“During law school, I had a summer job with his firm. His reputation as a top-notch attorney was well-known, and I was fortunate enough to have the chance to learn from him. I hold him responsible for getting me where I am today,” he said. “I told him if I could ever help someone like he helped me, I would. And, many years later… well, here we are,” he said, holding his hands up.
“Thank you for having me join the firm. I feel very lucky.”
He nodded. “Dimitri told me you needed work and asked me to find you something in our firm. He said you were trying to get back up on your own two feet?”
I liked how he asked. He inquired about my general situation without digging for details. Unlike most people I came across who seemed to thrive on dishing someone else’s dirty laundry.
But something about this guy… I didn’t know. Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes? Or those goddamn dimples?
I opened my mouth and the story just spilled. “My husband, well, ex-husband… we um, married right out of high school.”
He nodded. He knew where I was going with this. I was probably just another cliché to him. Hell, I was a cliché tome.
“The usual story. We’d dated for two years, thought it was true love…You know the drill, I’m sure,” I said with a fake but perky laugh.
“True love?” he said, sighing. “Too often, as a lawyer, the term ‘true love’ is usually followed by ‘restraining order.’“
Thus, started my verbal diarrhea.
