by Carsen Taite
“Hi, Judge, you need me?” Lloyd asked, his expression hopeful.
“Actually, I was hoping you and West could come to my office. Is she around?”
“Haven’t seen her yet this morning, but I can tell she worked over the weekend.” He pointed to her desk. “She left it all neat and clean on Friday, but now it looks like a frat house on Sunday morning. Guess she didn’t go out over the weekend like the rest of us.”
He smiled at his own joke, and she returned the smile to cover her concern, ignoring his reference to seeing her over the weekend. West was usually early, never late. “Okay, I was hoping to go over the cases for the morning docket.”
Lloyd stood with a fistful of files. “I’ve got them right here and I’m ready to go over them if you want.”
She didn’t, but she couldn’t very well tell him that without looking foolish. “That’s great, but sit down, we can do it here.” She settled into West’s chair, happy she’d figured out a way to see her the minute she walked in.
Half an hour passed, and she spent the time half-listening to Lloyd while casting surreptitious glances between her watch and the door. To her surprise, Lloyd had done a decent job of summarizing the case issues, and if she’d had the wherewithal to fully focus on what he was saying, she’d probably be very well prepared for the morning docket. As it was, she’d be lucky to make it through the day.
“And that’s it,” Lloyd said. “Do you want the files or do you want me to have Ester put them on the bench?”
She reached for the stack. “I’ll take care of it.” In her struggle to focus, she started with him. He looked eager and pleased to have been singled out to brief her this morning. She’d been so fixed on West, Lloyd had seemed like an afterthought. “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee and then get started.” She held up one of the files. “I have a feeling counsel on the Johnson case are going to need to speak to me in chambers. If you’re not busy, why don’t you sit in?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
She strode through the door to the kitchen, desperate for more caffeine, but what she saw jolted her awake. West was leaning against the counter, carefully tending to a French press while Ester looked on. They were laughing and talking like old friends, and West seemed entirely unconcerned that she was late and certainly not in any hurry to start doing actual work.
“Good morning.” Camille injected all the authority she could muster into her tone. “Looks like you’re having a good time.”
“Thanks, Judge. We sure are,” Ester said. “West was showing me how to improve my coffee-making skills.” Ester held up the French press before pouring a cup. “Thanks, West.” She looked at Camille. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
So much for authority. Camille started to follow Ester out of the kitchen, but West’s voice held her back. “No coffee for you?”
“I’ve already had coffee this morning. It’s almost time for docket call. I don’t like to be late.”
West’s eyes blazed. “You mean you don’t like me to be late. We never really discussed coming and going requirements.”
“I guess we didn’t. I guess I didn’t think we had to.”
“You’re mad at me,” West said, sounding defensive.
“Mad? No. I’m…” Camille sorted through her feelings, searching for the precise emotion, but nothing she came up with was anything she wanted to say out loud. Disappointed? Sad? Out of sorts? She’d shown up expecting West to be at the office, available and ready for whatever she had planned, and she’d been agitated when that hadn’t been the case. Now West was here and instead of their friendly back-and-forth, there was a distinct edge between them and she sensed it might be partly her fault. But she couldn’t say any of this because if she did there was no telling what else might come tumbling out.
Jay was right. She needed to get out more. If she’d come to rely on her law clerk for social interaction, it was time for an intervention, and she knew exactly how to self-help. “I’m not mad at you. Not at all. Why don’t you and Lloyd meet me in my office? I’ll be right there.”
She waited until West left the kitchen and then she pulled out her cell. She’d looked at Sadie’s number a few times since Saturday night, but she hadn’t been motivated to actually punch the buttons that would put them in contact. She wasn’t sure if she was ready now, but she didn’t let that stop her, typing the message as fast as her thumbs could fly across the keyboard.
I’m game for another non date if you are.
She hit send before she could change her mind, the whooshing sound of the text winging its way toward the unknown oddly comforting, like the whole thing was out of her hands.
Despite what she’d told West, she could use a cup of coffee, so she poured a cup of West’s special blend and took a much needed sip. Time to get her game face on because not only did she have to pretend she had no attraction to West, she also needed to start acting like she was in charge and not like they were equal members on the same team. Camille was two steps toward the kitchen door when her phone chimed.
Sounds perfect. Let’s non date Friday night. Meet you at Cafe Izmir on Greenville. 8 p.m.?
Camille typed a quick yes and shut her phone down, happy to have her personal life settled. Too bad she felt anything but.
Chapter Eleven
West leaned back in her chair and yawned. “Time to make more coffee.”
“No, it’s time to go home,” Lloyd said. “It’s finally Friday, and we’ve worked our asses off this week.”
West considered her options. This week had both dragged on and spun past. With the trial starting Monday, there had been a flurry of last-minute filings from both the defense and government. Witness and exhibit lists, jury questionnaires and proposed voir dire questions had all come in at a fast clip. Lloyd was right. They had worked their asses off and they deserved to head home at a decent time. Once the trial started, they’d be working double-time.
The week had been made harder by all the energy she’d had to expend pretending there was nothing going on between her and Camille. Camille had done her part by keeping her distance, and it wasn’t lost on West that Camille avoided being alone with her at every turn. Meetings in Camille’s office always included Lloyd or Ester, and every time she encountered her alone, Camille had been on her way to a meeting or waiting for an important call.
Bill and Gabe had both pointed out that she was pining for something she couldn’t have, and they’d tried to convince her to go out with them tonight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out dancing, and she wasn’t in the mood. Besides, she could barely stay awake as it was. “I think I’ll grab a coffee. I’ve got one more thing I want to do before I head out.”
“You’re welcome to it. If I don’t get home soon, my fiancée is going to give back the ring.”
Fiancée. Lloyd never referred to her by name, only by the relationship moniker, which kind of drove West crazy. Like the nameless chick had no more importance than the role she would fill. West didn’t relate to the need for a personal life. Not having one allowed her to keep her options open. She could move to Montgomery or anywhere else at a moment’s notice once this year’s obligation was fulfilled, maybe earlier. With the current tension between her and Camille, maybe she could convince Hank to absolve her of her promise. She planned to talk to him about it over Sunday brunch.
In the meantime, she wanted to put the final touches on the draft of the juror questionnaire, and she wouldn’t be able to without some java. The office was pretty quiet, and she figured it was safe to roam around without a chance of running into Camille. She picked up her coffee cup, walked to the kitchen, and methodically measured coffee into her French press while she waited for the electric kettle to heat the water. The coffee supply was running low and she’d have to make another trip to White Rock Coffee soon to pick up more. When she’d started bringing the special blend to the office, she hadn’t intended to get the entire office hooked on it, but now
that they were, she took pride in elevating their standards. Once upon a time, she’d never imagined she’d be drinking fancy coffee, being a lawyer—any of the accomplishments she currently enjoyed. Times had certainly changed.
“I knew it was you when I heard the kettle.”
Camille’s voice was soft and low, and West’s body responded immediately to the sexy tone. She didn’t turn around at first, taking time to assume a neutral expression. When she finally did turn, she almost lost her cool. Camille wasn’t wearing the tailored suit she’d had on earlier. She was dressed in a curve-hugging little black dress and tall, tall heels. West wished she’d taken more time to gain her composure. “Am I that obvious?”
“I wouldn’t call it obvious. Consistent, reliable maybe.”
“Yeah, ’cause those adjectives are so much better.”
“I’ve come to count on you.”
Had she heard a hint of suggestion or was she imagining it? Her only hope to get out of this situation unscathed was to ignore the undercurrent. “Do you want coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“You look like you’re going out.” West hated that she’d spoken the words aloud, but curiosity got the best of her. What she really wanted to say was Camille looked crazy gorgeous, but drawing attention to the specifics would only stoke the fire burning her inside out. Did Camille have another date? Was it the same woman she’d rushed off to see last weekend? Was that some new perfume she smelled? Citrus and woods this time instead of flowers. What had happened to her that she was this obsessed over her boss?
“I am,” Camille said. “Dinner plans. You?”
“Sure. I’ll probably have dinner.” West gestured at her own outfit. Like Camille, she’d changed clothes after work too, but her jeans and Converse spoke a night at home with pizza, not a night on the town.
Camille stepped closer. “You look good in casual. It suits you.”
“Better than a tie and blazer?” West asked, caring way too intently what Camille thought about her appearance and hating that she did.
“Of course not.” Camille ran a hand across West’s shoulder, tracing her fingers along the seam of her sleeve. “I guess I just like this look best. It’s more like what you were wearing when we first met.”
“Right. Bet when you first met me you thought I worked in the Cafe on Six.”
“Crossed my mind.”
“You elitist, you.”
“Hardly, but maybe I am too quick to judge.”
“Clever.” West’s back was against the counter. She should feel trapped, but all she felt was deliciously captured. Every cell in her body cried out for Camille to come closer. She settled on a simple question. “And what do you think of me now?”
Camille leaned in close and whispered, “I don’t know what to think.”
Camille was inches away, her eyes dark, her lips slightly parted. “Maybe you think too much.” West didn’t wait for a response before she closed the few inches between them and claimed Camille’s lips between her own.
Soft, firm, warm, and tender. She’d imagined this kiss many more times than she cared to admit, but never had she let herself think Camille would taste this good, feel so right. When Camille ran her tongue along her lips, she groaned, her knees weak with the shudder of intense heat between them. Whatever awkwardness had developed over the last week ebbed away, and the pull between them was undeniable.
A buzzing phone broke the spell. “Let it go,” West gasped.
Camille pulled back, her hand already digging through the purse she’d tossed on the counter. “I’m sorry.” The words were rote, but she had to say something. What had she just done? She’d kissed West. Or West had kissed her. Either way, she needed a second to process. She stared at her phone, relieved that the alarm telling her she was due to meet Sadie had saved her from… She had no idea what was going to happen next, but whatever it was, she knew it was dangerous.
“Don’t be sorry.”
Camille looked into West’s eyes, burning with questions, shining with desire. She didn’t have answers, and she couldn’t afford to return the emotion reflected there. Sadie would be waiting at the restaurant. Beautiful, accomplished, safe, and appropriate. Camille had one choice, only one right one anyway, and she dug deep for the strength to make it. “I have to go.” The low echo of soft footfalls drew her attention to the door. “What was that?”
West followed her gaze. “Nothing.”
“Is someone here?”
“No one’s here. Maybe it was the janitor.” West reached for her hand. “Don’t leave. Not yet.”
Camille looked down at West’s hand. She wanted to fold into her grasp, kiss her delicious lips again, and forget everything else. But she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. And she told herself it was for West’s sake as much as her own. “Good night.”
Too many steps to the elevator. Too many floors to the exit. Too many miles to meet the date she no longer wanted. Every inch of the distance away from West gripped her with regret, but she couldn’t face the alternative. By the time she reached the restaurant, she’d managed to cage her emotions and was able to fake a convincing smile in the rearview mirror. What she wanted was back at the courthouse, but what she needed was waiting inside. She didn’t really have a choice.
* * *
West walked into the house and slumped onto the couch. The kiss. The kiss had been everything and nothing all at once. Camille had melted against her. She hadn’t imagined that, but she also hadn’t imagined how Camille had dashed away at the first opportunity, the haunted look in her eyes telling West she regretted the moment they’d shared. West knew she should be used to being second choice, but she kept making the mistake of hoping for more.
Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed her. But she’d been so close, so beautiful, so inviting. Maybe Camille shouldn’t walk around the office wearing sexy cocktail dresses if she didn’t want to be kissed. West laughed at her own insanity.
“The first sign of demise is when she starts giggling and she’s all alone.”
Bill was standing across the room eating ice cream directly from a pint container. “I don’t giggle,” West said.
He waved his spoon in the air. “I beg to differ.”
“You can beg all you want.” She squinted at the ice cream. “Hey, isn’t that the salted caramel I bought yesterday? And why are you here? I thought you and Gabe had a date.”
“He got called in to work. Some emergency. Lots of broken limbs and blood. He was more excited about it than going dancing with me, so here I am.” His eyes got wide and his lips curved into a knowing smile. “Hey, I have an idea!”
West recognized the look, and she acted quickly to ward off the idea engine chugging through Bill’s brain. “Oh, no, not going to happen.” West slouched down further into the sofa. “I’m staying right here and binging on episodes of Orphan Black.”
“Right. Why drool over real hotties when you can watch them on TV?” He set the ice cream down and tugged on her arms. “Please come out with me. I can’t remember the last time my weekend didn’t get interrupted by surgeries galore, and if I don’t go out dancing soon, I’ll forget how. You can make sure I don’t get into any trouble.”
“Sounds like a blast for me,” West said, but her resolve was crumbling.
“I’ll be your wingman. I’m a great wingman.”
“You’ll be a lousy wingman because you’ll be trolling for someone to keep you company while your boyfriend plays doctor.”
“Boyfriend is a strong word for someone who I rarely see. And he’s not playing doctor, he is one.”
West looked from the ice cream in Bill’s hand, to the TV, and back to the pretty please expression on Bill’s face. Going out might be exactly what she needed to shake this malaise. Why should she sit home pining away over what might have happened if Camille hadn’t dashed off after the best kiss ever?
“Okay, but—”
“Yes!” Bill punched the air.
“Wa
it,” West said. “There are conditions.”
“Sure. Whatever. Let’s get dressed.” He started to dash out of the room, but she grabbed his arm. “Three things. One, you don’t get to ditch me for some shiny object you see in the bar. Two, you’re driving. Three, I need to go shopping for a few new suits for work tomorrow and you’re going with me. Agree to these terms and I’ll go with you.”
Bill cocked his head. “Hmm, I never figured you for stereotyping.” He pointed his thumb toward his chest. “Me no like to shop.”
“Great, we can be miserable together. Look, I hate it too and I don’t want to go alone. Besides, you’re the only person I can count on to make sure the salesclerk doesn’t try to stick me with some femme ‘career girl’ clothes.” She assumed what she hoped was a fierce look. “It’s a deal breaker.”
“Fine. I accept your terms. Now go get dressed. You’re going to have the time of your life.”
West laughed at his cliché. A night at the club dancing with strangers would hardly qualify as the time of her life, but the kiss she’d shared with Camille? Definitely in contention.
The club was starting to get really crowded by the time they arrived. She sent Bill to get beers, then took up a spot on the edge of the dance floor. Dancing wasn’t really her thing, but it was the best people watching on the planet and she desperately needed the distraction.
“Here’s your beer,” Bill said, handing her the bottle. “See any prospects?”
“I’m not here for that.”
“Well, you should be. Getting laid might make you a happier person. Remember, I’m dating a doctor, so I know all about these things.”
“Yes, Bill, of course I’m going to take mental health advice from you since you’re dating a doctor and all. Besides, if you were Mr. Happy, you wouldn’t be here, you’d be home waiting for your doctor man to get home.”