Perfect Fling (Serendipity's Finest 2)

Erin forced her head up. “Yeah. Please.”

Trina had already gathered Erin’s things and put them into her bag and together they walked out of the courtroom. To her relief, most everyone had already left, so she didn’t need to deal with people.

“Erin, umm, can I talk to you?” Trina asked as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and they stepped inside.

“Of course.”

Trina had been working in the D.A.’s office for the last two years and she was close to Erin’s age, and as the only two female lawyers, she and Erin had become friends. There was no professional jealousy between them—Trina was Erin’s escape from the male posturing when she needed one, and vice versa. Along with Macy Donovan, she made up the threesome for their nights at Joe’s, trips to the movies, and girls’ nights at home, which had also included Alexa Collins prior to the other woman’s move to Texas.

Before speaking, Trina checked underneath the stall doors to make sure they were empty. Ever since Lyle Gordon, the lazy bastard who just happened to be the defense attorney on their current case, had posted his paralegal in here to overhear anything that could help him win, Erin and Trina were extra careful about where they spoke and in front of whom.

“All clear,” Trina said.

“What’s up?” Erin turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

“Don’t you think this is the longest stomach virus in the history of the world?” Trina ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to Erin.

“It’s getting better,” Erin lied.

“No, it’s not. You’ve been sick for weeks.”

Erin didn’t argue. She’d run the gamut, from thinking she had food poisoning, to the flu, to a long-lasting virus.

“You’ve missed more mornings of work and left early more times than in all the years I’ve known you.”

Erin shot Trina a wry glance. “That’s a whole two years.” But she got the point. Even her boss, Evan Carmichael, had begun to question her absences and illness with concern, and Evan rarely noticed anything . . . except Evan.

“Anyway, while you were sipping tea in the hallway during lunch, I ran out to the pharmacy and bought you this.” Trina held out a brown paper bag.

Erin narrowed her gaze, cautiously accepting the bag. “What’s in it?” She didn’t wait for Trina to answer, peeking instead. “A pregnancy test?” Erin shrieked before slapping her hand over her own mouth.

True, she hadn’t had her period, but she’d attributed the lack thereof to work-related stress. Not once had she connected her illness to being pregnant.

“Hey, it’s possible,” Trina said.

“Are you kidding me? We’ve been working twenty-four seven for I don’t know how long. I can’t remember the last time I used my battery-operated friend, never mind had a real man.”

“Liar,” Trina said for the second time.

Erin scowled at her friend. They both knew she remembered the exact last time she’d had sex, and Erin recalled every perfect, muscular inch of Cole Sanders and their night together.

Their safe night. He’d used protection each time, and there’d been many. Besides, what were the chances the one and only time she’d stepped outside her comfort zone, something life-altering had actually happened? Fate wouldn’t do that to her after all her well-behaved years. Would it?

Erin regretted having shared vague details with her two friends, because one of them now stood next to her, pointing to the offending test box that every woman on the planet recognized.

“Take it,” Trina ordered.

“I can’t be pregnant.” Erin’s stomach revolted at the very thought, and every nerve in her body shouted in denial.

“Good. Then prove me wrong, and I’ll take you to the doctor to find out why you’ve been nauseous for almost a month straight.” Trina pinned her with a gaze that had potential defendants shaking and crying for mommy.

“Fine.” Erin grabbed the box and headed for the private stall. Her hands shook so badly she was barely able to read, let alone follow the instructions, but a few minutes later, she and Trina were waiting in uncomfortable silence for the requisite pink or blue line.

As the second hand of her watch ticked slowly by, Erin thought about Cole. He’d deliberately steered clear of her in the time since their night together. When she’d see him at Cuppa Café, he’d nod his head and walk out the door.

The other day, while at Joe’s on Ladies’ Night, fighting against this ongoing nausea, a strange impulse had her approaching him. She’d attempted friendly conversation, ignoring the flutters in her stomach caused by being near him and his delicious masculine scent. With a long line of people waiting for drinks, he’d had no choice but to indulge her.

She’d even made him laugh once or twice, giving rise to a stupid flurry of hope . . . that what? Erin refused to go there, which was smart, considering that as soon as his beer was served, he’d grabbed the bottle, treated her to that elusive nod, and disappeared. Cole made it clear that one night meant just that. They weren’t even destined to be friends. Her stomach cramped at the reminder.