Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,86

up my neck to my jaw until he claims my mouth.

I don’t object to his hands finding their way under my shirt or when they explore down the front of my yoga pants, and I definitely don’t stop him when he reminds me how good we are together on his couch.

He always has the best ideas.

The next night, Reed and I go to dinner and to a late show. We’re standing by the bar, me drinking wine and him a whiskey on the rocks waiting for the Broadway show to begin when someone calls out his name.

Lost in our own world, Reed doesn’t hear it right away, so I tap him on the arm. “That guy,” I say, pointing to a man in a suit approaching us.

He’s probably Reed’s age, dressed in a nice suit with a woman trailing along behind him.

“Reed,” he says, putting his hand out.

“Hey, George.” Reed shakes his hand.

The woman smiles at me and I smile back. Reed pulls me into his side, his hand protectively on my hip.

George drops the woman’s hand and since they’re both wearing wedding rings, my guess is it’s his wife. She looks around at the people surrounding us like she’d rather be talking to one of them, apparently not at all interested in the conversation that’s about to commence.

“I haven’t seen you since you were handed the Weinstein case. Is it still expected to go to jury next week?” George looks like an eager puppy whose master just said treat.

Reed stands straighter, but still, his hand hasn’t left my hip. “It is.”

“You know what’ll happen if you win, right?”

Reed shrugs and takes a big gulp of his drink. “There’s no if. I have to win. That slimeball deserves what’s coming to him.”

“You will. That’s why they picked you.” George’s excited voice has a few people turning their heads.

“George MacIlroy, this is Victoria Clarke. George used to work with me until he went on his own in the defense sector.”

I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, staring at me and a moment of fear grips me, wondering if he knew Pete. Then he turns around. “This is my wife, Cassie.”

The blonde smiles, shaking our hands with no real enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and she smiles, continuing to look anywhere but at us.

“Back to Weinstein. I know you’ve gotten some dirt, right? I mean you’re Reed Warner.” George apparently has propped Reed up on some imaginary prosecutor pedestal.

Reed shrugs. “You know I can’t talk about it.”

George nods. “I know, I know. But damn, I was talking to someone the other day about you and when they said you were the ADA assigned to the case I thought to myself, he’s going places.”

Reed glances down at me, and then to George. “I have to win it,” repeating himself once more.

The lights blink, and Reed’s hand tightens on my hip, leading me forward.

“Good to see you.” He nods to George. “Nice to meet you.” He directs his attention to Cassie. “Enjoy the show.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll see you during the intermission.”

God, I hope not. That was weird.

I smile, and Reed guides us to the entrance to our seats, but before we can make our get-away, George snaps his fingers.

“That’s where I know you from.”

“Just go,” Reed whispers, but I look over my shoulder to see him approaching.

“You’re Pete Keebler’s wife.”

Reed circles around, his hand leaving my body for the first time all night. “Ex-wife.” The word comes out sharp enough to cut glass.

George covers his mouth with his fist. “You’re dating Keebler’s ex? I knew you were ballsy, Reed, but—”

“Mind your own business.” Reed turns us back around and we’re ready to enter the doors to the theater, leaving overzealous George and his neglected wife behind.

“Can I be there when he finds out?” George says to our backs.

Okay Reed, don’t hate me after this.

I circle around.

“I’m not sure where I met you before, George, but I can tell you I don’t remember you. It was most likely at some boring work-related function where you were probably so busy ignoring your wife that you happened to notice me. Tell me, were you as far up Pete’s ass that night as you are up Reed’s tonight? Let’s make one thing clear. We’re not in high school anymore.” I talk to him in a tone like he can’t comprehend what I’m saying. “The gossip mill doesn’t exist. Pete knows I’m dating Reed, not that it’s really any of your business. Go