Payton took in her friend as she considered the question. After a moment, she smiled. “I’m crazy about him.” She saw Laney’s grin. “And in many ways, I mean that literally, you know. There are times—many, many times—when he drives me absolutely nuts. But still.”
“Are you in love with him?” Laney asked.
Payton blushed. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”
Laney threw up her hands. “Oh, my god—we finally found the one word that makes Payton Kendall blush. Love.” She pointed. “It’s because your mother didn’t let you read fairy tales when you were a kid.”
“And just when I thought I understood all the levels at which she messed me up, a new issue emerges.”
Laney chuckled. “So, do you want my second piece of advice?”
“Don’t listen to anything my mother says?”
“Okay, maybe my third piece of advice.”
Now it was Payton’s turn to laugh. “Sure, go ahead.”
Laney’s expression was matter-of-fact. “If you’re as crazy about J.D. as you say you are, then, well, don’t you kind of have to try to make it work? Who knows what will happen after Tuesday? Maybe he’ll surprise you. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”
Payton thought about this. Maybe, just maybe, Laney was right. She eyed her friend with faux suspicion. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you want to start making plans for Sunday couples barbecues?”
“Well, yes,” Laney said. “You’re my best friend, Payton. Of course I want you to find that one person who really makes you happy.”
Touched, Payton reached over and hugged her. “Thanks, Laney.” When she pulled back, she squeezed Laney’s hand sheepishly. “I’ve been so caught up in everything, I didn’t even ask how you’re doing. Although I did notice you’re drinking wine tonight.”
Laney sighed wistfully. “Yes, it didn’t happen this month.” Then she perked up. “That’s okay. The fun is in the trying.”
“Wow—you’re almost approaching a PG-13 rating yourself with that comment.”
Laney sat up and smoothed back her hair, seemingly pleased. “Me? PG-13? In that case, since we’ve already crossed the line, I suppose we should just get this out of the way. No, wait—”
Payton watched in amusement as Laney quickly downed the rest of her drink. Then she set the glass down and peered over.
“The shower trick. Let’s hear it, Kendall.”
Twenty-five
ONE DAY LEFT.
Payton’s worries over what to say the first time she ran into J.D. at work on Monday had been needless. While things may have changed for the two of them over the weekend, life at the firm remained constant, business as usual, which meant that she barely had time for lunch, let alone a stroll across the hall for a tête-à-tête.
It didn’t help that Irma was uncharacteristically anxious and jumpy. As if suddenly realizing it could be their last full day working together, Payton’s secretary had dropped by her office every fifteen minutes, asking what else she could do to “help.”
“Seriously, Irma—you’re making me nervous,” Payton said after the tenth drop-in.
“Don’t you need me to get started on your travel reimbursements from the weekend?” Irma wore the I’m-worried-but-trying-not-to-show-it expression someone had when distracting a friend who’d just had serious medical tests.
“Yes—thanks for the reminder. Here you go.” Payton handed her the pile of receipts from the weekend—the ones she was seeking reimbursement for, that is.
Irma nodded, appearing appeased by the busywork, and left Payton’s office.
She was back in five minutes.
“These reimbursements don’t make any sense.” Irma leafed through the receipts. “The receipt from the airline says that your return flight was Sunday, but you’ve only submitted a hotel bill for Friday night.”
Pesky industrious secretary. Sitting at her desk, Payton tried to keep her expression indifferent. “I decided to stay an extra night. I’m not billing the client for that.”
“An extra night?” Irma asked, confused.
“I . . . decided to relax for a day.”
At first, Irma looked surprised, then she nodded approvingly. “Really, Payton—whatever’s gotten into you these past few weeks, I like it.” She pointed, suddenly remembering. “I forgot your time sheets. I’ll be right back with them.”
“That’s okay,” Payton said, getting up. “I can sign them at your desk.” This was code for setting up a potential just-happened-to-be-walking-by drop-in on J.D.
Payton followed Irma to her desk, where she skimmed through her completed time sheets. She was on the last one when she heard Kathy call out from the desk next to Irma’s.
“Oh, good, J.D., you’re here. Do you have a minute?”
When Payton heard J.D.’s reply coming from behind her, she willed herself to be cool and casual. After all, they had been performing for audiences for years. This shouldn’t be any different.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing next to her. Shit—it was totally different. Wehadsexwehadsexwehadsex.
“Hello, Payton,” he said.
“Hello, J.D.,” she replied in the same innocuous tone.
Kathy riffled through the papers she held, thankfully paying little attention to their awkward interaction. “I’m confused about these travel receipts,” she said to J.D., “particularly the receipt from the hotel. I know you said that I should submit a reimbursement for Friday night at the regular room rate, which I did, but don’t you need to be reimbursed for two nights? You didn’t come back until Sunday.”
Certain she was blushing, Payton didn’t dare look up from the time sheet she was reviewing at Irma’s desk.
“The second night was personal travel. I’ll take care of that myself,” J.D. said.
“Personal travel?” Kathy repeated, surprised.
Out of the corner of her eye, Payton could see that Irma was listening intently to their conversation. She decided that now would be an extremely good time to return to her office.
“I decided to stay and golf,” she heard J.D. say to Kathy. “You know, take a day to . . . relax.”
“Oh. My. God.”
Payton stopped in the doorway to her office, turned around, and saw Irma staring at J.D. with her mouth hanging open in shock.
Irma’s wide eyes darted over to Payton. She covered her mouth. “Oh, my god,” she repeated, giggling.
Payton crossed to her secretary’s desk. “Irma, can I see you in my office? Now?”
Nodding, still with the Cheshire-cat grin, Irma followed Payton into her office. She kept her hand over her mouth as if fearing what might come tumbling out.
Payton closed the door behind them and turned to face Irma. “Whatever you think you just learned, I need to ask you to keep that information to yourself.”
Irma took her hand away from her mouth. “At least I know what’s gotten into you lately. Literally.”
“All righty then,” Payton said in response to the not-at-all-subtle innuendo. “Wow, I really don’t know where to go from there.”
“You and J.D. did the deed.” Irma lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oooh . . . was it angry sex?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Does that mean it’s serious between you two?” Irma asked.
But Payton remained firm on this. “Irma, I need you to do this favor for me. Please—don’t ask me any more questions, because you know I can’t answer them. And please don’t say anything to anyone about what you heard. You know how bad office gossip can get.”
Seeing how important this was to Payton, Irma sighed. “Fine.”
Payton smiled. “Thank you.” She knew how difficult it was for her secretary to bite her tongue about anything, let alone something as juicy as this.
Irma nodded, sizing Payton up with a look. “Boy, you two really decided to go out with a bang, didn’t you?”
>
“Irma—”
“Sorry. It was just too easy to pass up.”
AT THE END of the day, Irma dropped by Payton’s office on her way out. She held a midsized box in her hands.
“The mail room sent this up while you were on your conference call,” she said. “They needed someone to sign for it, so I went ahead and took care of that.” She set the box on Payton’s desk. “Can I see them?”
Distracted, Payton glanced over from her computer. “Can you see who?”
Irma gestured to the box. “The shoes you ordered.”
“I didn’t order any shoes.”
Irma pointed to the return address label. “Tell that to Jimmy Choo.”
Payton picked up the box and opened it. She sifted through about twenty pounds of tissue paper, which of course led to another, smaller box. When she opened that, she discovered a new pair of black heels.
Irma leaned over to inspect them. “Don’t you already have a pair like that?”
“I used to. I broke one of the heels,” Payton said.
“Oh, right . . . when you ripped your skirt in court. A friend of mine works in the clerk’s office, and she said everyone talked about that for weeks.” Irma looked Payton over. “That must’ve been really embarrassing.”
“Yes, thank you, Irma, it was.”
“She also said that the thing they talked about most was how well you handled it. She called you a true professional.”
Irma’s expression turned proud. “Whatever they tell you tomorrow, Payton, you can walk out of here with your head held high. I couldn’t have asked to work with a better lawyer these past eight years.”
Payton found herself a little misty-eyed. Everyone was getting so damn mushy these days. “Thanks, Irma.”
“Of course, if you could somehow manage to walk out of here with your buns still in your skirt, that probably would be best.”
Payton laughed. With a quick wave good-bye, Irma turned and headed out the door.
Once alone in her office, Payton picked up the box and pulled out the small envelope that had been tucked inside with the shoes. She opened the card and smiled when she read it.
You already know who they’re from.
PAYTON WAITED UNTIL the secretarial staff had left for the evening before she made her way to the office across from hers.
She knocked on J.D.’s door and was surprised to find him packing up his briefcase for the evening.
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
J.D. nodded. “I’m done. For once, I want to leave this place while it’s still light outside.”
Payton pulled the door shut behind her. “I got the shoes. I can’t accept them, J.D.”
He grabbed his briefcase. “Of course you can.” He peered down at her on his way out the door. “Besides, they were my favorites.”
“J.D.—”
“There’s nothing you need to say. Really.” He reached around, and at first Payton thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he opened the door. He stepped out into the hallway.
“Good luck tomorrow, Payton.” His eyes met hers, then he turned and left.
Payton stood in J.D.’s office, alone. Message received. Loud and clear. It brought to mind another time, not all that long ago, when he had left her apartment on a similar note. She hadn’t gone after him then.
But this time she would.
Among other things, she’d be damned if she was going to let J. D. Jameson get in the last word.
AS J.D. REACHED for the handle on the driver’s door of the Bentley, he heard a slightly pissed-off voice call out from behind him.
“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
He turned and saw Payton striding across the parking garage, coming from the direction of the elevators and heading straight for him. She carried her purse and jacket over one arm.
“Is that what you came down here to say?” he called back.
“Yes, that is one of the things I came down here to say.” Payton stopped before him and folded her arms across her chest. “I also came here to say that, contrary to your belief, I don’t need to be chased.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t give me that look—in fact, it’s probably better if you don’t say or do anything. I need to get through this.”
J.D. watched as Payton took a deep breath.
“This situation between us is totally messed up,” she began. “Frankly, I haven’t changed my mind in thinking that whatever decision the firm makes tomorrow is going be a problem for us. A big problem.”
She took a step closer to him. “But here’s the thing—the alternative means not being with you. And I’ve been not with you for years, J.D. I don’t want that anymore.” Payton peered up at him, her blue eyes dark and expressive. “I think we can get past this partnership thing if we go into it together.” She paused, then blushed and laughed nervously. “Now would be a really good time for you to say something.”
J.D.’s mind raced with the thousand things he wanted to say to her. Was it time? He thought maybe, finally, it was.
“Payton, I—”
But he stopped when he saw something—or someone, rather—over her shoulder. “Shit.”
Payton cocked her head. “ ‘Payton, I shit,’ ” she repeated. “That’s good to know. I’m glad we cleared that up.”
J.D. had to bite his tongue not to laugh. “No, it’s Ben,” he told her under his breath. “He just got off the elevator.”
Payton’s smile turned into a frown. “Crap. I don’t want to deal with him right now.”
“He’s walking straight for us.”
“You know what? Since you two are such good buddies, you deal with him. Just figure out some way to get rid of him. Quickly.”
J.D. watched as Payton hurried off, careful to never look in Ben’s direction, and headed over to a stairwell just a few feet away.
“Jameson!” Ben called out to him from across the parking garage.
As J.D. waited while Ben approached, he was struck by a sudden fear: What if Ben—either purposefully or accidentally—said something about the one of them the firm had decided to make partner? And in that moment, whether J.D. wanted to admit it or not, he began to wonder if Payton was right in thinking the two of them could get past the firm’s decision.
Pushing this aside, J.D. smiled as Ben walked up to him, hoping to play it casual and innocent-like. “Ben, hello.”
“Where did Payton run off to?” Ben asked.
“Payton?”
“Yes, Payton. She was standing here, talking to you, just a second ago.”
So much for casual innocence.
“Oh, Payton,” J.D. said. Bad dinner theater threatened to rear its ugly head again. “She forgot her key card upstairs. She saw me and asked to borrow mine so that she could go back up and get it.” Not bad, J.D. thought. That actually sounded plausible.
Ben nodded. “Right, right, her key card.” Then he cocked his head. “You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw how close you two were standing, the way she was leaning into you.” Ben winked. “I guess you decided to go back to that well one last time, huh?”
J.D. felt his heart stop.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ben.”
The partner grinned slyly. “You can drop the charade, Jameson. It’s just the two of us here. It’s not like I’m going to call Human Resources and tell them that you’re banging Payton again.” He lowered his voice. “Did you two at least make it out of your office this time?” Chuckling, he gave J.D. a little slap on the shoulder.
J.D. closed his eyes.
Five fucking minutes.
If he had left his office just five minutes later, he would’ve been in the clear.
“All right, fine,” Ben was saying. “You keep the dirty details to yourself this time. It’s probably better that I don’t know.” With a wink, he told J.D. to have a good evening,
then headed off in the direction of his car.
J.D. waited, watching as Ben rounded the corner and finally disappeared out of sight. Then he waited some more, trying to decide if there was any chance Payton hadn’t overheard their conversation. He walked slowly to the stairwell where she had hid to avoid Ben. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew there was zero chance she hadn’t overheard absolutely everything.
Payton’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Tell me I misunderstood.”
More than anything, J.D. wished he could tell her that. “It was a long time ago, Payton,” he said quietly.
Her eyes darkened with anger. “It was a long time ago that you—what?—lied and told Ben that we slept together?”
“Yes.”
She pulled back in surprise, and J.D. knew that part of her had hoped there was some other explanation for what she had overheard. She looked him over with an expression of betrayal. “Tell me what you told him.”
“It’s not important,” J.D. told her, even though he knew that wasn’t true.
“I heard Ben ask if we at least made it out of your office this time. Whatever lie you told him, I want know. I think you owe me that at least,” Payton said coldly.
J.D. had to look away, unable to meet her gaze. When he hesitated, he heard the panic creep into Payton’s voice.
“Oh, god, J.D. He’s my boss. What did you say to him?”
J.D. turned to face her. She was right; she should know exactly what had been said. And he needed to own up to his mistakes. So he steeled himself for the inevitable.
“I told him that we had sex on top of my desk one night after everyone left.”
Payton blinked. “Why? Why would you do that?”
J.D. hated that he was the one who put that hurt expression on her face. He tried to look away from her, but she was having none of that. She stormed over, confronting him. “You know what gossip like that can do to a person’s reputation—particularly a woman’s reputation,” she hissed. “Why would you say something like that to Ben? To help you get ahead? Look at me, J.D. Tell me.”
When J.D. peered down at her, he saw all the familiar anger and distrust in her eyes once again. He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, Payton. Maybe I am the asshole you always thought I was after all.”