Page 31 of Hooked

“Got time for coffee?” she asked without a greeting when her best friend answered on the first ring. “I’ve screwed up big-time and need some advice on how to mitigate the damage.”

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ENTERING HIS CLIENT’Snot guilty plea didn’t take more than a few minutes and despite the busy time of day, the trip to the courthouse and back took under an hour. This placed him back in the office before two o’clock.

Livia’s desk was conspicuously empty when he returned. With a pile of work waiting for him, he got right to it, leaving his door open. A few minutes passed before he heard her in the outer office.

“Olivia, come in here, please.” He didn’t have to raise his voice or call twice, hearing her chair roll across the floor as soon as he’d asked for her. When she appeared in the doorway, he added, “Bring the package with you.”

Through the open doorway, he saw her cross the room, losing sight of her for a moment as she retrieved the box. Only a few seconds ticked by until she reappeared, stepping into his office almost hesitantly, the long box in hand. He refrained from grinning, just barely, at his little imp.

She knew exactly what he wanted. As if he would miss such an obvious blunder. He didn’t do probate law, but the junior associates he supervised did. The documents were for their cases. If they’d slipped by him with errors, both he and Livia would have been embarrassed. He’d been irritated at first that she would make such a careless mistake, which wasn’t like her. Then he realized her game.

“Come in and shut the door.” Once she pulled the door closed, he ordered, “Lock it, please.”

He saw her stiffen and a moment later, the soft snick of the lock echoed in the quiet room. With her back to him, he heard her take a slow, steadying breath before she turned to face him.

When she approached, he stopped her.

“Stay right there.”

She halted mid-stride then moved back. Her hands clasped the box in a white-knuckled grip he expected to crush the cardboard any minute. She fidgeted slightly, shifting her weight restlessly from side to side as she waited. The picture of a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“The documents you gave me earlier were unacceptable. Imagine if Sister Ernestine at St. Lady of Benedict’s got Mr. Armenture’s will, leaving all his worldly possessions, not to his wife but his three mistresses instead.”

She blanched. He wondered if she just now caught the irony of her gaffe.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself? This sloppiness is quite unlike you.”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I’ll have the corrected contracts for you in a jiffy.”

He stood and walked around to the front of his desk. Perching on the edge, he leaned back, crossing his ankles in a laid-back manner. “You seem tense. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

As he waited for her answer, he removed a cloth from his jacket pocket and cleaned his glasses, nonchalant and as though he were unperturbed.

“Only that I’m very sorry for my carelessness and it won’t happen again.”

“Open the package for me. It’s a special order, one I hadn’t expected to need so soon, but it seems it will come in handy today.”

She peeled off the packing tape and opened the flap. Looking inside, her face went pale and her eyes shot to him.

“Remove the contents, please, and bring it here. I’ll need to inspect each item before I use it on one of my most valued possessions.”

Backhanded praise, if he’d ever heard it. She frowned, as he knew she would.

“Come along, pet. Don’t add procrastination to your list of misdeeds today.”

She removed the items he’d selected expressly with Livia in mind. The first was a riding crop with a wide leather keeper on the end. She gave it a cursory glance obviously having seen one before.

He held out his hand. “I’ll take that. What else do we have?”

Her brows gathered fiercely as she withdrew the Dragon cane. Denser than rattan, with greater flexibility, it was less likely to fracture during use. It also had a handle, which made for a better grip and less slippage, which could lead to injury. The idea of an unintentional mark on her fine ass was unthinkable. Palm outstretched, he silently asked for the cane as well.

“There should be one more item.”

“What in the world?” she whispered as she held up the Broom Brush, which was a modern-day birching rod.

He relieved her of the implement and the box, setting the latter on the floor out of his way.

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