His Temporary Assistant

She wasn’t one to leap with a net, that was for damn sure.

“I will. Have fun with the girls.” I paused. “Mom, you’re happy, right?”

It wasn’t a fair question. She didn’t have all the information. But I needed to know she was.

Even just for now.

Her smile answered for her. “I’m happy. I want that for you too. You deserve it.”

She closed the door behind her, and I resisted trying to get a glimpse of Ryan. Instead, I went to my desk and picked up the phone.

After I plugged it back in.

When the call connected, I took a deep breath. “Hi. I want to set up a date.”

Ten

Wednesday

My mother’s heart-to-heart talk had hit home.

Sort of.

I’d listened to her thoughtful words of advice, promised to give them some thought, and made a hasty decision I was even now reconsidering, a full day later.

There were reasons I did not move fast. One of them was so I never had to reverse course. I still could, but it would be sticky.

I didn’t like sticky.

I also didn’t like avoiding my assistant.

Today had been better. She’d come in almost on time. Ten minutes past nine was practically perfect for her. I’d mentioned some calls I needed her to make, and she’d even taken dictation on a letter I needed her to send Judge Tremont. She’d doodled smiley-faced daisies in the margins of her pad while I collected my thoughts, but I didn’t care as long as the letter sounded coherent.

After that, we’d behaved mostly like boss and employee. I’d been in the courthouse part of the day, but when I was in-house, she kept her finger perpetually on the button for my line. Half the time she asked me stuff just to be annoying. And she definitely still sent me too many emails.

Isn’t Esquire just a pompous word for attorney?

Don’t you think putting a large red X next to the line where people need to sign is overkill?

Are you a super brainiac to get through law school in two-and-a-half years?

Some of her more salient questions I answered. The rest went into my circular file.

Her missives still dinged every damn time they hit my inbox. I was convinced my computer was hexed too.

I glanced at the time. I’d almost made it through. Soon, the day would be over, and I could follow-through on that questionable decision I’d made.

There was yet another item on my docket to contend with first.

I walked up the hallway in time to witness Ryan crouching outside my office, balancing on her heels and craning her neck to peer through the gap in the blinds. Pity I’d opened them marginally today. “This angle sucks. His desk is too high. I can’t see him.”

Lifting a brow, I tucked my hands in my pockets to watch the show. My last client meeting of the day was in a few minutes, so I’d gone to the conference room to make sure it was prepped.

To my utter shock, it was. Carafes of water and coffee—not mine, oh no, that was still purportedly en route—and a fruit plate were in the center of the table, along with a vase of fresh flowers. They were nice touches, especially since I suspected Stacey would need those small comforts.

When she’d called to make the appointment, she was crying. Never a good sign.

Just in case, I’d stopped by the supply closet to get a box of tissues for the conference room. Better to be prepared.