Driven to Date (4 page)

Lips swollen, I gave him a farewell smile, then turned and walked away.

****

“You deserved that job.” Valerie Jacobs stood in my office Monday morning, hands on her hips, wearing a tight button-up shirt tucked into her slacks. “I’m outraged for you.”

“I appreciate the thought.” I turned back to my yellow pad, dismissing my colleague. Valerie was a good attorney, but she was an avid gossiper and I wasn’t about to give her any ammunition.

“Ten minutes until we meet Jim’s nephew.” Valerie sighed. “I hope he’s as easy to work for as Charlie.”

I doubted it. “We’ll find out shortly.”

“Again, real sorry about the non-promotion.” Valerie fluttered her manicured nails in my direction. “Toodles.”

I dropped my pencil on the desk. Valerie was the fourth person in under an hour to come by my office and extend their condolences for my dead career. One more sympathy crack and I’d scream. It ranked as fun as attending my own wake.

Sarah Carlton strode purposefully into my office, dropped the weekend mail into my in-box, then her face brightened. “Love your new ‘do!”

“Thanks.” I’d spent an hour in front of the mirror this morning, experimenting with my short, blunt cut before settling on wearing my hair down with a zig-zag part. A major difference from the one-minute knot I usually wore at the nape of my neck.

“The highlights give a nice lift to your eyes.” Sarah ran a hand through her silky brown locks as if considering adding highlights herself.

I tucked my hair behind my ear, suppressing a smile. A compliment from Sarah was a major coup. Not only was she the world’s best assistant, but she also had impeccable taste. My career may be in the toilet, but at least I looked good.

Sarah turned to leave.

“Can you shut the door on your way out?” I picked up the black receiver, ready to punch in my parents’ phone number, and deliver the awful news:
Your daughter got hosed.

“Sure thing.” But Sarah backed away from the door, turned, then leaned over my desk. She looked at me conspiratorially. “Can I just tell you how awful I think it is that they didn’t promote you? It’s obvious to everyone and their mother you deserved that position.”

“Thanks,” I said, pressing my lips together. I appreciated the loyalty, but each sympathetic remark stung like a dagger stabbing my heart. “I’ll see you in the conference room.”

Where we’d get to meet the new Managing Attorney. Talk about painful.

When Sarah closed the door, I set the receiver back down, then stared at the bronzed Lady on my desk, who held the Scales of Justice. I fingered the eight-inch statue—my most treasured possession. It had been a gift from my mom and dad when I’d graduated law school. I’d been so proud at achieving my goal.

Friday was the first time I’d failed.

Your life is as you make it.
Ryan’s words from Saturday night echoed through my head, and I couldn’t help wishing they were actually true. His passionate kiss had replayed in my mind repeatedly, as well. A delicious moment, but indulging again would not be helpful to my current situation. I’d proved to Madison that I had her vision of the perfect personal life, and she’d told me she’d call me this week. End of story.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Remembering the feel of his hot mouth against mine, I shivered. A man never occupied my thoughts like this, and it was more than a little disconcerting. My cataclysmic career failure was clearly wreaking havoc on my emotions.

Turning my attention back to the Lady, I dropped several paper clips onto the left scale she held. One, lost promotion.
Clank
. Two, five wasted years.
Clank.
Three, thinking about sexy Ryan and his kisses.
Clank.
As the left plate descended, the right side rose—totally symbolic of my life since Friday. Wasted time weighing heavily on the left. This was a visual of what Kristen had said: My life was completely unbalanced.

What else had Kristen said? Oh, right. I needed to get a life. What did that
mean
anyway?

I sighed. Wanting to scratch something off my list before the big meeting, I dialed my parents’ house. The phone rang, then clicked, and my stomach knotted.

“Ted Parnell here.”

“Hi, Dad.” I faked the enthusiasm in my voice. “How was your trip?”

“Great, Ace.” He sounded happy to hear from me. “How does it feel to run your own department?”

My shoulders slumped. Why had I been so quick to brag about the promotion? “Actually, that’s the reason I’m calling . . .”

“Want some tips from your old man? Huh, Ace?” He chuckled. “I’m proud of you, but don’t forget to make some time for fun. That’s my tip.”

I dropped my head on the desk. Was there a conspiracy around me?

“I remember when I made partner, and it didn’t pay off like I thought it would. Turns out I just had more work.” He laughed.

Partner? I couldn’t even make Managing Attorney. I banged my head against the desk. “Dad, I need to tell you—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!
“That’s my alarm, honey. I’ve got to run. Big golf game to go to. Congratulations again!”

The dial tone rang in my ear and I set the phone back in its cradle. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was time for the dreaded meeting anyway. A lump rose in my throat. Hot tears stung my eyes. May as well meet my new boss and get this over with.

Holding my head high, I strode out of my office, and followed Troy Monaghan down the hall. Troy was another attorney in my office and definitely practiced the art of fun. He’d dated several women in our firm, was the first to leave the office at night, and was habitually the last one to arrive at a meeting.

Except for now, since I was trailing after him.

“Sorry they didn’t give you the position, Jill.” He gave me a side-glance. “That was a raw deal.”

A slice of pain stabbed my heart. “Thanks, Troy.”

I slid in the conference room behind him, and took the standing spot next to him against the wall. With the entire Personal Injury Department in here, it was a tight fit, but I spotted the partners seated at the table. I knew Charlie was in court today, but I didn’t see a new (thieving) face next to the partners.

Jim Shaw’s face beamed. “Now that we’re all here, I don’t see any sense in wasting time. We all know why we’ve gathered. It’s time to meet our new Managing Attorney for the Personal Injury Department.”

My eyes closed briefly as nausea crept up my throat, so I tried to focus on the positive. Perhaps my new boss would be hands-off like Charlie had been, and it would be business as usual around here. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Jim made eye contact around the room. “Our newest asset to Corbett, Gray, & Shaw comes to us from San Diego where he worked for a prestigious law firm and recently commanded a seven-figure jury verdict for his client. Team, I’m very proud to introduce you to our new Managing Attorney . . . Ryan Shaw.”

Clapping erupted around the room and Troy nudged me with his elbow as I somehow managed to bring my hands together several times. All eyes floated toward the corner of the room where I noticed a man wearing a blue polo shirt and khakis. He leaned with his shoulder against the wall, hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other.

Talk about casual. The nephew didn’t even have the decency to dress up for the position he’d heisted from me. Taking a deep breath, my eyes traveled upward to look into the face of the man who’d ruined my life.

Sexy hazel eyes stared back at me, holding my gaze. My stomach twisted, and my eyes narrowed. My new boss was Ethan’s best man, Ryan.

Chapter Three

On Tuesday morning, I’d almost dozed off—using my twelve-inch Somerset file for a pillow—when someone tapped my shoulder. Startled, I snapped up and stared into my assistant’s laughter-filled eyes.

Sarah smiled. “Someone have a late night?”

I groaned. “My friend, Ginger, called last night and we talked for two hours about a guy she’s seeing.”

She shook her head. “Not going well, I take it.”

“No.” I leaned back in my chair. “She’s such a sweetheart, but he sounds like a player. She doesn’t want to give up on him, because she thinks he has hope and her clock is ticking.”

Sarah slipped into the chair across from my desk. “Ah, one of
those
women.”

My brows came together. “One of what women?”

“Is she almost thirty?”

Sounded about right. “Yes . . .”

Sarah shrugged. “She’s PML.”

I tried to decode the unfamiliar acronym, but came up with a big fat goose egg. “Never heard of it. Does it run along the same lines as PMS?”

Sarah shook her head, then leaned toward me conspiratorially. “You know, pre-midlife. Right before single women hit thirty, they panic because they’re not married and all the good ones get taken. Some gals go a little crazy, trying to snag a husband before their choices dwindle to nothing.”

For some reason, fear spread over me. First Ginger and now Sarah. Was thirty the new deadline for marriage? “PML, huh?”

“Yep.” Sarah stood upright and thumbed through the small stack of papers she held. “The guys who’d make a great husband are flying like hotcakes at our age. Soon, we’ll only have the men women passed on.”

“Hmm,” I said, wondering why my clock had never started ticking. Oh, right. Because I’d been too busy slaving all my free time away at my desk, working for a promotion I’d never get because Jim Shaw doled out the best positions to family first.

“You don’t have to worry, though.” Sarah smiled as she dropped a handful of papers into my in-box. “I heard through the legal grapevine that you met someone at Ethan Harrison’s wedding last weekend.”

My eyes bulged. “What?”

She pulled the papers out and began shuffling through them casually. “Rumor has it you were in a hot lip-lock with a very sexy guy on the dance floor.”

I sat up, and straightened my button-up blouse. “It was just a kiss, and won’t happen again.”

Sarah threw me a questioning look. “Why not?”

Maybe because he’d kissed me after I’d confessed the horror at
his
stealing
my
promotion? “Just not interested in him.”

Although when Sarah left my office, this PML thing started circling my brain. Of course, I wanted to get married
someday
. And it’s not like I was getting any younger. . . .

“Knock-knock.” Valerie Jacobs cooed from the doorway. “How are we doing today?”

“Fine, Val.” I skimmed through the stack of papers on my desk. “What’s up?”

“I just came from Ryan’s office.” Valerie winked her long—obviously fake (but, cute)—eyelashes at me. “He’s such a doll.”

Jealousy snaked up my spine, which was ridiculous. Val was single. So what if she made a play for Ryan? I, myself, had been avoiding him like a garlic sandwich. “What can I do for you?”

She gestured to the folders bundled under her arm. “Ryan had these Somerset pleadings of yours, so I offered to bring them back for him since I was coming in here anyway.”

I watched in confusion as Valerie plopped the stack of legal documents on my desk. “This is
my
case. What was Ryan doing with these?”

“Reviewing them?” Valerie sounded like she was guessing.

This was too much. First my job, now my files. I grabbed the pile of pleadings and flipped through them frantically, searching for a clue as to why Ryan would go through them without asking me first. It infuriated me that he was checking my work. I glanced up.

Valerie watched me intently.

Probably the first time she’d caught me in an emotional frenzy. Actually, it was the first time I’d even had one at work. “Is there something else?”

“Actually, I’m making the rounds. I ordered a welcome cake for Ryan from Freeport Bakery. Their chocolate-with-cream-fillings are out of this world.” Valerie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Care to chip in?”

I had the sneaking suspicion Valerie thought buying Ryan a cake would edge her closer to a date. Not like I cared to help Val in her quest (or welcome Ryan, for that matter), but I searched in my wallet for five bucks. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She pocketed the green bill. “See you in the break room at three.”

Val flipped her raven hair over her shoulder, then strode out of my office.

I turned back to the small stack of phone bills I’d been reviewing before Val’s annoying interruption. Sarah had highlighted all calls made to the defense attorney’s office in San Francisco, and there was a sticky note on the file from Ryan asking her to do so. There was also a note from Ryan asking me to draft a summary of my telephone conversations.

I set the phone bills in the document holder by my computer and filed the Somerset pleadings Ryan had borrowed back in my cabinet. Why had Ryan asked Sarah to highlight my calls with the defense attorney? And why did he want me to type out my conversations? Was this some kind of power trip?

My career had sunk into a deep dark pit. There was no denying that. Also, for some reason, my conversation with Sarah was nagging at the edge of my brain. I’d never worried about marriage or aging, so the jury was still out on whether or not I actually had PML. Yeah, my thirtieth birthday was next month. And, sure, I was as single as it gets. Whatever. . . .

It’s not like my singleton status made a bit of difference at three o’clock when the entire department ate Valerie’s to-die-for cake and celebrated the arrival of Ryan Shaw, while I remained chained to my desk trying to recollect two-year-old conversations with defense counsel.

I seethed as my fingers hit the keyboard. Yes, the Somerset file was a high-value case, but Charlie had never questioned the way I organized my files. Just another reason I needed that job from Madison McKenzie—as soon as possible.

****

Instead of hearing from Madison McKenzie Friday morning, Kristen had called from her honeymoon in Italy to find out what I was doing “for fun” today. Eyeing an email from Sarah, I told her I was taking my assistant to lunch. I failed to mention I hadn’t invited Sarah yet. When Kristen prompted that lunch with my assistant was work-related—sigh—I added that I planned to invite Ginger, too.

This is how, an hour later, I came to be sitting at a restaurant in the Geoffries hotel with Sarah and Ginger for lunch. The restaurant was packed, but we got a corner table with a nice view of the garden patio. Once we gave our meal orders to the waiter, I vowed to forget about work for an hour.