The Bridgewater Case

by R. C. Martin

  I work my fingers until she gently pushes against my forearm, informing me it’s too much. With one arm still wrapped around her middle, I give her a minute to catch her breath while I suck my fingers clean.

  “Dane?” she murmurs, opening her eyes and searching for my gaze in the mirror.

  “What is it, babe?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but please don’t feel like you need to—”

  “I won’t,” I declare, intent on dissolving her worry.

  “Okay.”

  Now steady on her feet, she turns and circles her arms around my neck, pulling me down toward her. I allow it, slipping my hand into her pants and grabbing a palm-full of her ass while she kisses me fervently. When my dick can take no more, I slow us down, touching my forehead against hers as I work to collect myself.

  “Do you want me to—?”

  The feel of her hand traveling down my chest is all the hint I need to figure out what she’s implying. I catch her wrist in my grasp before she can get too far.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  Lifting my forehead, a crooked smile curls one corner of my mouth as I remind her, “It’s not my birthday.” Kissing her one last time, I turn to take my leave. Before I’m out of earshot, I instruct, “Finish up. It’s late.”

  “Dane?”

  Stopping just past the threshold of the bathroom entryway, I look at her from over my shoulder. Her hair is a bit out of place, her cheeks are flushed, and her pants are still undone, but she looks as stunning as ever.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs bashfully. “For the birthday orgasm.”

  Chuckling, I promise, “Trust me, there’s more where that came from.”

  I leave her with a grin on her face, headed for the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. When I’m finished, I walk back to the elevator, adjusting myself in my pants on the short ride down. Once at my desk, I inhale deeply, taking in the notes I abandoned. It’s in this moment that it registers just how invested in this woman I am.

  For the first time in my entire career, I want to be able to promise someone my time on her birthday. I want work/life balance. I can’t see myself ever being as lazy as my father, taking on the bare minimum. My work is what drives me. I’m not sure who I am without it. Yet, even still, a day of play seems in order.

  Fortunately for me—I am my own boss.

  Fortunately for Sigourney—I’m her boss, too.

  TURNING TOWARD THE mirror, I button my pants and then quickly tuck in my matching shirt. Running my fingers through my hair, I fix the lightly curled strands, and then I hurry toward the closet. I grab my fitted, cropped, coral blazer and slip it on, pulling my hair from underneath the collar before hunting for my nude heels. Once I’m fully dressed, I face the full-length mirror and give myself a quick once over. When I catch sight of my face, still a little pink from my orgasm, I don’t even try to fight my grin.

  Hearing Dane grumble at me about not knowing it was my birthday is probably the sexiest birthday gift he could ever give me. Though, what I told him is true. I sincerely don’t wish for him to go out of his way to do anything special for me today. I know how some people can get about birthdays, but I’m not like that. Sure, Ellery and I have been making a big deal about them even after both of us moved away from mom and dad’s place, but she’s my sister. While Dane does have a growing piece of my heart, and while I appreciate him wanting to acknowledge the significance behind the day, he makes me happy just being with me.

  Then, of course, there’s the small matter of our living arrangements. I know I’m here so he can help keep me safe for the duration of the Bridgewater case, but as each day passes, it feels like more than that. With the way our personalities tend to operate, it’s been very natural for us to fall into a routine of sorts. It’s nice, and it feels comfortable. He has never once given me the impression that I’m some sort of burden to him. All things considered, my life in Colorado is shaping up to be the most amazing adventure I’ve ever been on. As far as my birthday is concerned, I don’t need anything else.

  I grab my new, double-breasted, dove gray pea coat—a birthday gift from my parents that arrived a couple of days early—and tie the belt around my waist. I then hook my purse in the crook of my elbow and make my way out of the penthouse. I know I’m a little late, but I’m hoping I can still make it to The Grind and back in good time.

  Stepping into Dane’s office, I see he’s immersed in his case files for court this morning. Given that we’ve already exchanged our good mornings—more than once, as a matter of fact—I leave him alone as I pass. I don’t notice my gifts at my desk until I’ve stepped foot out of his office. Sucking in a gasp, I stand frozen as I stare at the balloons alongside a colorful box just beside my keyboard.

  “Um—surprise?”

  Snapping my head to the side, I see Ava standing a few feet away from me, an orange envelope in her hands and a bewildered expression on her face. Now feeling a bit confused myself, I point to my desk and inquire, “Was this you?”

  “Did you really pass by your desk and not notice the obnoxious birthday display until coming back this way—or did you just come from upstairs?”

  I seal my lips shut, at a loss for words. Dane and I haven’t mentioned to anyone that I’m sleeping upstairs, let alone that I’m sleeping with him. Of course, we made the other partners aware of the threats that have been made toward me, and they’ve been informed of our visit to the police station, but that’s about the extent of their knowledge. Since Dane is usually at his desk no later than seven in the morning, and I have made a habit of leaving for The Grind shortly there after, even if there is anyone who sneaks into the office before eight o’clock, they have no idea I spent the night in the penthouse.

  But Ava—Ava is too observant for my own good.

  “Sally?” Even though I’m sure she meant it as merely an inquiry, the tone she wraps around my name sounds more like a challenge.

  She’s daring me to lie to her right now.

  “Sally!”

  “I’m going out for a coffee run, do you want to come? You do. You want to come,” I insist with a nod. The truth is, I feel like I’ve been keeping this secret from her forever. Not just me living with Dane, but my entire relationship with him. Even though we haven’t exactly put a label on what we are, neither of us can deny that it’s significant. Seeing as Ava is one of my only friends here, I make up my mind that I can trust her with this.

  I want to trust her with this.

  She walks toward me slowly, eyeing me suspiciously, handing me the card in her grasp when she’s closed the distance between us. “I forgot this part,” she explains before turning on her heel. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watch as she walks toward her office for her jacket and her purse and then tuck her card into my own. Peeking over my shoulder, I look in on Dane. As if he can feel my gaze trained on him, he glances up at me. It’s only for a second, but the wink he tosses my way before returning to his work is enough to make my belly flutter. When I hear the click of Ava’s heels against the hard floor upon her return, I smile at her and meet her halfway. Together, we walk through the lobby in silence. The second we step onto the elevator and the doors close behind us, she turns to me, propping her fists against her hips.

  “Are you two…?”

  Memories of my morning flood my mind, and I can’t contain my smile as I nod at her.

  “Holy shit, girl! Since when?”

  “Our first date was a few weeks ago.”

  “Date? Weeks?” she guffaws. She turns away from me, folding her arms across her chest.

  For the next thirty floors, I think she might actually be mad at me until she speaks again.

  “I forgive you for not telling me only because I would do the same thing. It’s not the easiest thing to justify, sleeping with your boss.”

  “For the record, it didn’t start out that way. He’s actually quite the gentleman.”

  She arches a perfe
ctly manicured eyebrow at me, silently screaming her disbelief.

  Giggling, I amend, “He was patient.”

  “For real? You held out on the goods? With all that man looking like—all that man?”

  I shrug, offering her another nod, and she laughs, holding up her hand.

  “Girl, I know that’s right.”

  Joining in on her laughter, I give her a high five just as the doors open in the lobby with a chime. She then links arms with me as we make our way out of the building and into the cold, late autumn morning.

  “All right. Get to talking. I’ll take the Reader’s Digest version for now. The rest will require a girl’s night to be put on the books pronto—got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh,” she murmurs, smiling down at me. “Happy birthday, Sally.”

  “Yes—yes, it is.”

  ELLERY CALLS AND leaves me a voicemail, but my morning is so busy I don’t have a chance to listen to it. Then, on my lunch break, my mom calls and chats with me until I have to get back to work. I appreciate the birthday love from home, as I miss them a little bit more today than on any other day; but I’m content where I am, too. Especially when where I am happens to be sitting in on the depositions Dane had scheduled for this afternoon.

  He called in a couple experts to interpret some of the data we found while looking into the records of both Flash Packing Co. and Rollin Mammoth Trucking. According to their findings, they can testify that Rollin Mammoth has been cutting corners for financial gain for years. The measures they put into place to rectify each mechanical failure and safety recall weren’t exactly up to code. This, of course, is information we would have never been able to see. Only someone who knows the ins and outs of what goes on underneath the hood of a rig could look at the reports mandated for every repair and see it.

  After the second mechanical expert has left, Dane hands me his notes as we make our way out of the conference room. “I’ll need you to type up the initial summary. Can you have it on my desk by Monday?”

  “Sure. I can start on it right away.”

  “Sally, hey—I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” says Lydia, by way of greeting, as she comes toward us.

  “Sorry. I was in the conference room. What did you need?”

  Dane and I stop in front of his office, just beside my desk. Lydia stops directly in front of me, her eyes looking up at Dane, as if she’s surprised he would stop to hear what she has to say. When she realizes he’s not in any hurry to be anywhere, she smiles at him and then tries to keep the same expression when her gaze shifts back onto me.

  “That file I asked you to put back yesterday, what did you do with it?”

  Confused as to whether or not this is a trick question, I frown as I reply, “It’s in the file room. I put it back.”

  “Oh. Damn. Turns out, I need it again. Would you mind pulling it?”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes, not exactly sure how I became her errand girl, and open my mouth to respond—only, Dane speaks before I can.

  “Lydia, I assume you didn’t make it this far without memorizing the alphabet, am I correct?”

  Laughing softly, her genuine smile returns as she glances at Dane and asks, “What?”

  “Sigourney is not a file clerk. If you need a file, you know where to find it.” Shifting his attention onto me, he goes on to say, “I have a three o’clock call.”

  “Yes. Jeffery Bates.”

  Backing his way to his office, he demands, “His is the only call I’ll accept, and I’m not to be disturbed while I have him on the phone. Understand?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hard as it might be, I don’t let my eyes linger on his retreating figure, but look back at Lydia, who is still standing in front of me.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she leans toward me conspiratorially and mutters, “Don’t think that I don’t see right through you.”

  Taken aback by her words, I hug the file in my hands against my chest, as if my body instinctively knows that I need a shield between her and me.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re a secretary—not an associate. It’s your job to pull files, and yet you’re sitting in on depositions? Please,” she scoffs, shaking her head at me. “I don’t know if you’re sucking his dick or spreading your legs, but you’re up to something. There’s no other reasonable explanation as to why he’d find you so useful. My advice?” She pauses, looking me up and down in a stare so judgmental, I feel physically assaulted. “Soak it up while you can. Attorneys like Dane? They always throw the help out eventually. It’s only those of us who belong here that last.”

  I cough out a sigh, my heart sinking at her verbal attack. I know that I should stand up for myself, that I should explain to her exactly how I’ve managed to get my foot in the door, but I can’t find my fight. The truth is, I am sleeping with Dane. Except, it isn’t dirty or manipulative in the way that she’s implying.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur lamely.

  As soon as the words come out of my mouth, the front desk receptionist comes strolling our way, a gigantic bouquet of flowers in his hands. It’s gorgeous, the harvest colors making it the perfect autumn display. As he draws closer, I make out dahlias, chrysanthemums, gerberas, and roses.

  “For you, Sally,” he tells me with a smile, setting them on the far corner of my desk. “You’ve made quite the impression to get so spoiled on your birthday. I don’t think anyone has ever gotten this much attention,” he laughs before returning to his station.

  “Who are they from?” Lydia asks snidely. “One guess says his name begins with a D.”

  She doesn’t bother sticking around to see, and I’m grateful. I wouldn’t have been able to hide the truth from my face. After plucking out the card and reading the short message, my shoulders sink in disappointment. Not because she was right—but because she was right, except for all the wrong reasons. As much as I want to latch onto the excitement that should come with such a gift, it feels ruined now.

  When my office line starts to ring, I’m quick to plop down in my seat in order to reach for the phone. It’s a couple minutes after three, and I know this call is important.

  “You’ve reached the desk of Dane Croft, how may I help you?”

  When Jeffery announces he has a scheduled call, I inform him that I’ll be placing him on a brief hold to transfer him.

  “Yes?” Dane answers.

  “Mr. Bates is on the line.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Patching him—”

  “Sigourney?” he interrupts before I can finish.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you like them?”

  Peeking over my shoulder at the large bouquet, I whisper truthfully, “I love them.”

  “Good. Patch Jeffrey through, please.”

  I do as he says and then look down at the note I still hold in my hand.

  Happy birthday, babe.

  He didn’t sign his name, but he didn’t have to. A tiny smile graces my lips, adoring the fact that this is something we have—an intimate secret that we share. Only, I can’t prevent myself from worrying that maybe we won’t be able to keep it a secret for much longer; and it hurts to imagine how it could all be ruined—not just what Dane and I have, but everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  Suddenly, I’m not basking in the marvelous ways in which my life has changed.

  I’m afraid of all that I might lose.

  I’M ON THE phone with Jeffery for over an hour. He’s one of my better clients. We’ve been working together for two years now—and when he wants something, I don’t hesitate to offer him my ear and expertise. Noting the time when I finally hang up, I remember I have another call I’ve yet to make. Returning to my desk, I discard my headset and pull up the contact information for Guard and Grace on my computer.

  While I’m not sure what kind
of L.A. restaurant Sigourney usually frequents with her sister every year, the place I’ve chosen for this evening is one of the finest in the area. Fortunately, in spite of the short notice, it doesn’t take much for me to make a reservation for this evening. As soon as my task is finished, I get up and exit my office to have a word with Sigourney.

  I pause a couple steps away from her desk, amused to see her physically deflate as she tosses a piece of chocolate into her mouth. When she moans softly, obviously enjoying her treat, I shove my hands in my pockets in an attempt to hide my now semi-hard cock. Memories from this morning come rushing to the forefront of my mind, and my pants grow even tighter. Making her come turned me on; feeling how wet I could make her stroked my ego; but hearing her offer me something in return? My dick still aches in regret for my decision to walk away. Now, for a second, I imagine her making that sound with my dick in her mouth.

  I’m quick to discard the thought. It certainly is not the time or place.

  Knowing I must get back to work if we’re to be able to make our reservation tonight, I walk up behind Sigourney to inform her of our plans. I place my hands on the back of her chair, preventing her from turning around to face me. Having already had the thought of what it would be like to fuck her mouth, the last thing I need right now is to actually see her mouth, with those perfectly plump lips of hers. I may pride myself on being a professional, but being aware of my limits is an attribute I contribute to my success.

  “Dinner. Tonight. Eight o’clock.”

  She straightens at the sound of my voice, instantly attempting to spin around to face me. When she meets resistance, she stills and intuitively decides not to twist in her seat to peer up at me.

  “Dane, I told you—”

  “Dinner. Tonight. Eight o’clock.”

  “Okay,” she concedes.

  “Do you have something you’d like to wear? Or will you need to make a trip home? I don’t want you going alone, if you need to return to your apartment,” I insist, keeping my voice low. “However, what you’re wearing will suffice, as well.”