Page 93 of Regards, Mia

“What?”

Mia sighs. “I’ll tell you everything in the car on the way to your place.”

“My place?” There go our plans for a quiet evening of lounging in her bed, planning trips to Italy and ordering in.

“I have to go into the office,” she says. “It’s a mess, and Jordan needs me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does.”

Mia misses my sarcasm as she studies the luggage carousel. Her mind is focused on work, and I doubt she would notice if afire broke out in the airport, much less my disappointment that our plans are ruined.

In her car, Mia explains that the young woman who accused Mattson of rape, the one who was deemed an unreliable witness, stabbed and killed Warner Mattson and is now being held in Azalea County jail without bail.

She delivers this all with no expression or emotion, driving as if she’s on autopilot.

I realize that she’s already thrown up her walls. It’s obvious to me she cares about this woman, but she’s all business now, the cold, calculating attorney.

We are quiet on the drive back to town, the interior of the car humming with unspoken words.

“Don’t worry about dropping me off,” I say as we pull into town. “I can walk from your office.”

Mia stops at a traffic light, but doesn’t turn to look at me. “What about your luggage?”

“I’ll get it later.”

Mia finally looks at me. Her face is a mask, every emotion hidden away. When we arrive at the courthouse, I make Mia wait in the car while I check out the parking lot. There are less than half a dozen cars in the lot. I see Jordan’s BMW is one of them, and my nerves fray.

“I’ll walk you in,” I tell Mia, opening her door.

“No need.” Weariness creeps into her voice as she stands. “The threat is over.”

“Let me finish the job.” I step aside so she can get out of the car.

“There’s no need.” Her voice is hopeless.

I place an arm on the car behind her, boxing her in. “What if I have a need? I want to see you tonight.”

Mia’s breath hitches. She leans into me, and I can feel her softening, her body melting into mine. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be done.”

“That’s okay.”

“It might be late.”

I won’t sleep until I see her again, until we talk a few things over. “Just text me.”

We stand there staring at each other, trapped in an awkward moment with the security guard as our interested audience.

I wait for her to make a move. To kiss me, or hug me, or even a wink to let me know we are still the same people who discussed taking a trip to Europe together earlier today.

She extends her hand. A polite smile is on her lips, and her eyes are twin pools of glacial blue. “It was nice working with you.”

I take her hand in mine, my palm engulfing hers. I feel that jolt, same as always, when we touch, and I can’t help wondering if she feels it too. She pulls her hand free without another word, and a moment later, disappears into the building.

CHAPTER 38

My Ass on the Line

Imarch straight to Jordan’s office, where I find him talking on his office phone. He acknowledges me and points at the chair opposite his desk. I take a seat and cross one leg over the other, feeling out of place wearing jeans and a sweater in the office. I might as well be naked without my power suit and heels, but Jordan's appearance is even more revealing. I've never seen him with as much as a strand of hair out of place, but his hair looks like he's been running his hands through it half the night. It stands up in wavy tufts that are usually gelled back to within an inch of their life. He's wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He has bags under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow, even though it’s only a few hours past lunch.

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