by Anya Sharpe
“Of course, Erynne. Enjoy your night. And it is a nice suit.” He gives me a quick wink, and Derrick emits a growl.
“What’s with that guy, anyway?” Derrick slams the car door and starts the engine with an unnecessary roar. “You’re my wife for God’s sake. He shouldn’t be checking out whether or not your suit is nice.”
“Really, Derrick? What’s your problem? It was a compliment. You made it sound like I was wearing a gunny-sack. We’re going to your boss’ house for cocktails and dinner with important clients and the other junior partners. You wanted me to wear a ball gown?” I cast him a frown and a glare. “Is something going on you want to tell me about?”
“Okay, okay. I hoped you’d be wearing the black cocktail dress tonight.”
“I couldn’t wear that today…it’s not work appropriate.” Said dress is quite short with a neckline so low a little more of the girls are exposed than proper for an office environment.
At the stop light, Derrick reaches over the center console, squeezing my hand like he does when he’s hurt my feelings. “I’m sorry. A lot is riding on this case, and this evening is important. The suit is amazing on you. You’re beautiful. I was pissed another guy pointed it out to me.” He puts on a puppy-dog smile that gets to me. “I’m truly sorry, babe.”
****
“Erynne! You look fabulous, as always.” Jamison Reed, one of three senior and founding partners at Derrick’s firm, and the host leans in with a casual hug and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. Jamie is a terrific guy, and I was sad when he and his wife, Sophie, divorced two years ago.
“It’s good to see you as well, Jamie. How are you doing these days?”
“Ah, living the carefree bachelor life.” He laughs. In his fifties, he’s good-looking with subtle dashes of gray peppering his dark hair along the temple, even-tempered and genuinely a wonderful guy. I’m not sure what caused the split between him and Sophie, but I doubted philandering was the cause. He’d been devoted to his family.
“Oh? Perhaps a new love interest you haven’t told me about?” I tease him.
“You’ll be the first to know, Erynne.” He gifts me one of his dazzling smiles, shakes hands with Derrick, and nods toward the bar set up at the far end of the large room. “Derrick, why don’t you find this lovely wife of yours a glass of wine? I want to go greet Don and Rita. I’ll catch you later, Erynne.” He strolls toward a well-dressed couple who recently arrived.
“I was wrong.” Derrick takes my arm and escorts me across the room.
“About…?”
“You do look terrific tonight.” I’m awarded his cheesy, guilty grin. I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. “I wanted to show off my sexy, beautiful wife.”
“Drop it, Derrick. You’re forgiven.” He kisses me gently, and we step up to the bar. What’s gotten into him?
“Hello, Derrick. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…wife?” A lovely, tall woman with a gorgeous mane of red hair smiles at us. She’s a stand-out in a champagne-colored sheath dress accentuating what even I admit is a hot body. The word “siren” comes to mind.
“Morgan.” Derrick stutters and seems unnerved by the greeting from his partner on the Martin case. I’m not. Except somehow, the fact Morgan is a woman surprises me. Silly me, assuming Morgan was a male coworker’s last name. I don’t recall Derrick referring to her as a female. The omission makes me bristle.
“Yes, this is…uh, Erynne, my wife.” He turns to me wearing a tight smile. “Hon, this is Morgan Banner. I’ve mentioned her several times.”
“Yes, of course. Morgan, I’m glad to meet you.” Derrick’s tense demeanor and Morgan’s stiff posture are slightly unsettling.
She offers me the most perfectly manicured hand I’ve ever seen, gripping mine a little more firmly than I’d expect. Sharp red nails dig into my palm. Women attorneys always seem to need to prove how tough they are. I only hope she doesn’t draw blood.
“Erynne. Right.” Her smile is forced and not entirely genuine, which does nothing to ease the tension in the air. Perhaps it’s a woman lawyer thing I’m picking up on.
“Derrick says wonderful things about you.” Morgan joined Reed, Morris, Liss & Associates a few months ago. In fact, Derrick hasn’t said a whole lot about her, but I’m going for polite.
She simply nods with a forced smile. “Of course. Likewise.” So far, I’m not impressed.
Derrick breaks the mood and shifts his body away from Morgan. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I sense he’s uncomfortable in her presence, which is curious since he works side-by-side with the woman every day. Maybe he’s worried about my reaction to him keeping close company with her so many late nights. Should I be concerned? Don’t be silly, Erynne.
“Chardonnay, please.” I attempt to strike up a casual conversation with Morgan.
“How are you liking the firm? Jamison and Calvin are wonderful.” Derrick’s worked there for about seven years. I’ve interacted socially with the three partners, more so Jamie and Calvin Morris. Edward Liss, the establishing partner, is older and rather private. I don’t expect him to be here tonight.
“Yes. It’s been a good experience. Working with your…Derrick has taught me a lot. He’s terrific.” Her smile softens as she speaks about him, but I still think she’s kind of bitchy. I wonder how Derrick manages to work with her every day. I can’t say my first impressions of her are positive. In fact, she makes me uncomfortable. I’m relieved when Derrick hands me my wine and excuses us from Morgan’s presence, suggesting we greet Calvin. I notice he visibly relaxes as we step away from her.
“Is she always so…intense?”
“Who, Morgan? Nah. She puts on this uber-professional persona. Once you get used to her, she’s a pussycat. There’s Calvin.” He smiles at me and resting his hand low on my back as we greet Calvin.
Pussycat? More like a mountain lion, I decide. Rude, Erynne. As long as he doesn’t mind working with her, I guess that’s the important thing.
****
Oh, hell. We’re seated next to the Mountain Lion at dinner. Fortunately, Derrick takes the seat between us. I’d have poked my eyes out with the butter knife if I had to make very small talk with her for an entire meal.
Earlier, while we were talking to Calvin and his wife, Beverly, Morgan joined us. Casual conversation does not seem to be her forte. More than once Beverly inconspicuously rolled her eyes at me when Morgan dominated the discussion, steering back to the all-important Martin case. She shut down Beverly, who had been telling us about a philanthropic event she was organizing.
Watching Derrick talk to her, I get the sense she’s uncomfortable with most other people.
I should give Morgan the benefit of the doubt for Derrick’s sake. Being one of only a few women in a law firm filled with strong-headed men has to be difficult. Mentally chastising myself, I vow to engage Morgan. To reach out and be friendly.
“So, Morgan, are you new to the city or just the firm?” I slap on a congenial smile, as I lean past Derrick enough to be heard above other nearby conversation.
A flicker of surprise darts across her face. She wasn’t expecting me to talk to her voluntarily. Her expression is rapidly replaced with a more aloof, yet confident one. Morgan’s gaze hones in on the hand Derrick is stroking across my shoulder, her eyes taking on a dark, clouded appearance.
“I grew up here in New York.” After the terse response, she lays a hand on top of Derrick’s, which is resting on the table near his wine glass, gathering his attention. When he stiffens at her touch, she quickly removes it. “Derrick, do you think we should get Ben Martin in for a deposition next week?”
WTF? Is this the only topic of conversation she’s capable of? They launch into a dull discussion filled with legalese, while I sip wine and stare straight ahead at a very nice potted plant across the room. A knot begins to form inside my chest. I do not like Morgan Banner.
“Can I refill you?” Jamison sits in the chair to my left and holds up a bottle
of Chardonnay as if it were a prize, smiling broadly at me.
“The whole bottle, Jamie?”
“I know the host.” He teases me in a false whisper, refilling our glasses. Frowning, he glances at Derrick and Morgan, who tucks a lock of her curling red hair behind her ear, places an elbow on the table, and props her chin on her fist, intent on whatever my husband is saying. All I can hear is “Ben Martin…blah, blah, blah, evidence…blah, blah, blah…” Jamie expresses his displeasure at their conversation with a small grunt.
“She’s trying so hard to fit in. Derrick says she’s doing well and is smart. She needs to relax though.” He nods toward Morgan. “I hope she doesn’t monopolize Derrick tonight. He should set aside the case for the evening and make small talk.”
I change the subject, tired of thinking about the lovely Ms. Banner. “So, Jamie…how are you doing?”
“Honestly? It’s been rough, but getting better. Sophie and I have gotten to the point where we can be friends. Being suddenly single at my age isn’t easy, though.”
I lay a hand on his arm. “What happened, Jamie? You two seemed so…” I hope I am not being intrusive, but Derrick’s boss and friend appears to want someone to talk to.
His eyes are sad. “We grew apart. One day we woke up, and Matt and Adam were starting college. Lucy was getting married. And there we were…not talking over the breakfast table. Not talking over the dinner table. I thought Sophie and I would go back to what we had before the kids came along. Turns out, neither of us knew what that was anymore. We’re different people. I still love her. But it took a while for us both to admit we weren’t in love anymore.”
“I’m so sorry, Jamison.”
“No need to be, Erynne. It happens. It’s sad, but it happens.” Then, he grins at me. “And what’s this “Jamison” stuff? I finally get you to call me Jamie after all these years, and now you’re back to that?”
He lifts his glass to mine and makes a toast.
“To my good friend’s better half. Derrick’s a lucky man.” He winks, and we clink.
****
That night I dream of mysterious, murky, snakelike things in varying hues of deep red, and awake with a sense of dread and doom settling into my bones. In the morning, I can’t recall much except it was disturbing. There was something familiar, yet foreboding about the dreams, which only unnerves me more.
Chapter Four
Evan
After she leaves, I stack the folders on Erynne’s desk into a neat pile. Absently, I realign them. The reason for my agitation, irritates me further. I restack them. Twice more.
“Why the hell do I care?” I mumble to myself as I flick off the light, closing the door to her office behind me. Her husband was a dick to her right in front of me. So what? It’s none of my concern. Still, I hate to admit it bothers me.
“Hey, is Erynne here?” Maya appears out of nowhere. She’s a sexy woman, too. Always easy-going and smiling. Even her wardrobe is perky. I find it hard to believe guys aren’t lined up around the block for her. Under other circumstances, I might be in that line.
“No. Her husband picked her up a little while ago. They had some function to attend.”
“Oh, you met Derrick. Isn’t he fantastic? They’re such a cute couple. He dotes on her.” Maya’s beaming. Clearly, I must be missing something, because Derrick seems like a douche to me.
“Yeah, I met him. They didn’t stick around long. They needed to get to wherever they were going.”
“Oh yeah. Derrick’s boss is having a big client party tonight. I’ll catch her tomorrow.” Maya spins around and waves a hand in the air. “Bye!”
For a split second, I entertain the idea of asking her out for a quick drink. I’m not at all interested in dating her, but Maya is the kind of person who knows a lot about the staff here—Erynne in particular. I could get the inside scoop, but I don’t want anyone mistaking a casual drink with me hitting on her, so I stomp on that idea before it takes root.
“Oh, hey, Evan?” Maya calls after me. “A bunch of us are going out for drinks after work Thursday. Our weekly happy hour gathering. Wanna come?”
Are you kidding me?
“Sure.” I go for nonchalant. Now, I’m curious. “Who else will be there?”
“The usual gang.” She rattles of a bunch of names, including her and Erynne, then shrugs. “Significant others are invited if you have one.”
Perfect.
“Sounds good.” I ignore the reference to significant others. I prefer to keep my private life private.
“Super! Bye!” Maya’s the kind of woman who you could picture skipping off into the sunset on a ray of sunshine. Perpetually happy.
****
I’ve been at Ridley & Peters for several weeks and my clients are thrilled with the new firm. Erynne and I continue to work on the transitions, and we’ve more or less become dubbed “The Team” around the office. We’ve built an impressive joint clientele base in a short amount of time. She’s an impressive partner. No wonder Roger calls her his “golden girl.”
Thanks to the Thursday night happy hour sessions after work, I’ve become closer with the staff. One of the regulars, Gary Snowden, and I occasionally play squash.
The downside to those get-togethers is spending time with Erynne in a casual environment. The woman is constantly on my mind—even now as I prep for our meeting with Lance to go over the new Jonas Software campaign we’re launching in a few weeks—which drives me nuts. The only exception is when she’s right in front of me. See? Thinking about her right now. Fuck. Something bangs into the door, and I glance up to catch Erynne gliding into my office carrying a large binder and looking like a million bucks. My attention zooms to her legs. I’m doomed.
“This portfolio is ready for review, Evan.”
A herculean effort would be required to tear my gaze away when she enters the room. Her blondish-brown hair is piled up in some stylishly messy ’do that knocks my socks off every time, because I’m dying to undo the pins and let every strand fall down around her. The tight but plain navy-blue skirt with a brightly patterned sleeveless silk top seems innocent enough, except it isn’t. Every damned thing the woman wears manages to boost her on the hotness scale. Let’s not forget about the red heels she tortures me with once again. One peek at them and my dick turns into a steel beam. I want to avoid that particular consequence now. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Why this woman rattles my cage, I don’t know. But I’d best get over it.
My impure train of thought is short-lived when Lance arrives.
“Hey, beautiful.” Cue Lance. The guy strolls into my office and engulfs Erynne a big, long hug. Lance might be in love with her based on how sappy he becomes in her presence. Naturally, he insists she be here whenever we meet. Erynne thinks he’s sweet and puts up with his nonsense with grace. His ability to get away with swooning over her seriously irks me. Having Erynne’s warm, soft body pushed up against me the same way is never gonna happen, but the notion sends an electrical charge through me nonetheless. Work is sheer torture these days.
“Hey, Lance. How are you? Ready to get down to work?”
Lance pouts. “Work? You’re not going to run away with me this week?”
She laughs at his flirtation, fingering the diamond heart necklace which appeared around her neck a few days after her birthday. I zone in on a fading hickey near where the chain falls, barely hidden by escaping tendrils of hair. Lucky bastard, I think not for the first time. This growing obsession with my co-worker irritates me. I’ve never had an issue like this before. Never been tempted to play in the work pool. Until now. Why the hell am I so attracted to Erynne? Shut it down, Evan.
“Now, Lance. You know Derrick is the love of my life. Sorry.”
“Damn. All right, what’ve you got?” He claps his hands, rubbing them together.
“Hello to you too, Lance.” My tone is businesslike, but what Erynne said hit a nerve. The woman is madly in love with her husband. Based on the few occasions Derrick jo
ined us at happy hour, I’m forced to revise my initial opinion and admit he adores her. I haven’t heard him speak to her like he did the day of his boss’ dinner, but something about him still bugs me. Maya swears they’re the perfect couple, and totally in love with each other. I have my doubts.
“Oh, you’re here, too?” Lance pulls his chair as close to Erynne as he dares. Could he be more obvious?
About thirty minutes into our meeting, Erynne gets a text that puts a scowl on her face. She sets down her phone and stares hard at it. Oh, no. Not again.
“Bad news?” Based on her reaction, I’m pretty sure I can guess what the text said and who it was from.
“I’m fine.” Pasting on a pinched, fake smile, she shuffles some papers and attempts to refocus her attention on the project at hand. I’m no fool. Derrick canceled something on her again. Another crisis with his “big case.” You’d think he was working with Marcia Clark on the O.J. Simpson trial, for chrissakes.
Lance quirks a brow at me. I shake my head “no” and frown. Hopefully, he gets the message and keeps his mouth shut.
When we wrap things up, Erynne quietly gathers her things. She has spoken only as much as necessary and her trademark brilliant smile was absent.
“See you guys later.” Without meeting our eyes, she closes the door behind her.
“Whoa. What was that all about?”
“I’m guessing the love of her life canceled whatever plans they had tonight. He did the same thing last night and Monday. Three days in a row. I’m sure she’s pissed.”
“Does he do this a lot?”
“Often enough. This is the first time I’ve seen this level of quiet anger, though. The big case he’s working on goes to trial soon. The closer they get, the more he bails.”
Lance blows out a low whistle. “I wouldn’t want that babe mad at me, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Me either.”
****
Erynne’s face lights up, and I follow her line of sight across the bar. Well, whaddaya know? He showed up for drinks.