Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,76

conversation.

“I’ll come in this afternoon,” Sarah said. “I’m too beat.”

“If by this afternoon you mean nine o’clock this morning, then that should be fine.”

“Mickey.”

“Sarah. You’re doing good work—Calvin’s impressed. So tell whoever’s there to get off of you so you can come in and show off.”

“No one’s here,” Sarah said, squeezing Joe’s fingers to keep them from straying higher. Then she gave him a light elbow in the chest to get him to knock it off.

“See you in two hours,” Mickey said.

She groaned. “Yeah.”

Then she hung up and burrowed deeper into Joe’s arms.

“Mickey, huh?” he asked. “He still after you?”

“Only in the vaguest of ways. But he got me this job, so . . . ” Sarah yawned and spread her hands on top of Joe’s. “ . . . if you’re enjoying feeling my breasts right now, you have him to thank.”

Joe kissed the back of her neck. “I’ll send him some champagne.”

He got out of bed just when Sarah was looking forward to falling asleep with him again.

“Want some coffee?” he said.

“I don’t, but yes. Really strong, please.”

Sarah fought reality as long as she could, but had to pry open her eyes once Joe returned with mugs for both of them and climbed back into bed. Sarah propped up her pillow next to him, and draped her leg over his while they drank.

“Now for the legal issue,” she said, sighing a little with the effort of it.

It had been easier to push aside when it was just sex. Or just sex and maybe a little more.

But since last night she had no way of rationalizing anymore why it might be all right—an exception to the ethical rule—for her to continue an intimate personal relationship with her opposing counsel.

“Let’s lay out the options,” Sarah said, trying to sound professional and lawyerly while lounging naked in her opponent’s bed. “I tell Calvin, you tell whoever your boss is, we both get fired.”

“Option A,” Joe said.

“Option B,” Sarah continued, “one of us withdraws from the case and frees the other one to continue.” She took another sip of blacker than black coffee—Joe really had taken her at her word and made it strong enough that she could feel it searing through her bloodstream—and waited for him to say something.

“Let’s . . . hold off a while longer,” he said.

“How much longer? Joe, we could get into serious trouble—”

“We’ll be careful,” he said. He set down his coffee and looped his arms around her waist. “I don’t want to talk shop right now. You and I have plenty of work to do today—we can be lawyers later. Right now we’re off duty.”

He made a persuasive case, especially since one of his hands was currently threading between her thighs.

“Okay, but we need to talk about it,” she insisted as she set her mug on the bedside table and slid back to horizontal. “Tonight, all right?”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Joe, focus . . . ”

“I am focusing,” he murmured as his hands and lips continued to explore.

They would talk about it that night, Sarah promised herself. Make a decision about what to do.

But for the moment she had to admit that Joe’s topic of focus was a lot more enjoyable than hers.

***

“Welcome back to civilization,” Mickey said, leading her toward the conference room. “This is what we call an ‘office.’ And those are lawyers,” he said, pointing to the various people working there on a Saturday morning. “They’re not bell hops, so don’t try to tip them.”

Sarah yawned.

“Come on, now, killer,” Mickey said. “Look sharp. Today’s a big day for Sarah Henley.”

“Why’s that?”

He grinned. “You’ll see.”

He pushed open the heavy door of the conference room and held it for Sarah to pass. There were already four people in there: Calvin and the three other lawyers Sarah had included on her recent e-mail.

Calvin stood up and shook her hand. “Sarah, nice work. We decided we wanted to brainstorm this morning, since you’re probably leaving again tomorrow.”

“I am,” she said.

“Where to?” Calvin asked.

“Portland. Then Seattle, then . . . somewhere.” She wished she felt more alert, and knew she probably should have grabbed another hour of sleep before she came in, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she spent her time.

“So, walk us through it,” Calvin said. “You noticed a pattern . . . ”

“Right,” Sarah said, stifling another yawn. “All the defects are from a particular five-month span of time. Any of the hair irons bought before or after that seem