Page 83 of A Dead End Wedding

I sighed. "Sorry. Long story. What's up? Where's our lunch? And please don't put Langley through again without letting me know first. I hate that guy, and I've never even met him yet."

It was her turn to sigh. "It wasn't me, D. It was Mr. Bus Driver. I had to pee, and he?—"

"Okay, okay. What's up?"

"Jake Lady-Killer Brody is here to see you. Can I tell him to get stuffed?"

Heat shot up from the vicinity of my panties. Brody should bottle that: just the sound of his name was a guaranteed panty-warmer.

I'm in trouble, here, said the part of my brain that knew better.

Trouble would be a fun change, said the part of my brain that didn't care.

"Crap."

"What?" Max sounded like she was getting tired of my mumbling.

"Nothing. Send him in."

"But—"

"Please, Max. Big girl, remember? This is probably about Gina, anyway," I warned myself, er,Max.I warnedMax.

"Right," she muttered darkly, then slammed the phone down in my ear.

My eardrums were going to perforate at this rate.

I stood up, instinctively wanting to be on equal footing with the man. Then he walked into the room, and I sank back down in my chair. He was half a foot taller than me, anyway, so it's not like it mattered. "Mr. Brody, how nice to see you. I assume you're here about Gina?" I picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk, trying for a "serious lawyer who is very busy" appearance.

He grinned at me and walked toward my desk as I tried not to scoot my chair back. It would show weakness. The black pants and white shirt combination that put him in the GQ model league weren't helping. "Nice to see you, too, Ms. Vaughn. But I thought we'd progressed to Jake and December, at least, the other night?"

I raised one eyebrow (this takes practice) and put ice in my voice. "Really? Would that have been before or after you called me an ambulance-chaser?"

Jake laughed and plopped his butt down in a chair. "Nice. Perfect degree of chill factor in your voice. I bet you've scared a lot of opposing counsel in your time. Sort of beach bunny meets ice princess, right?"

"What? You – I –beach bunny? Get out of my office, you offensive . . . buffoon," I said, no longer having topretendto be immune to his so-called charm.

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on my desk. "Buffoon? Wow. Now you've wounded me. I guess I'll just have to take you to dinner to apologize."

The expression "balls of steel" popped into my mind.

"Look, Brody, maybe this tall, dark, and brainless thing you've got going on works with the Ginas of the world. But youmight have noticed the degrees hanging on my wall?Sonot interested. Definitely not going to dinner with you. Now, if you don't mind?" I pointed to the door.

He didn't move.

I stood up.

He still didn't move.

We started talking at the same time. "Look, Brody?—"

"It's only dinner, Vaughn. I wanted to thank you for what you tried to do for Gina. The kid has had a rough time."

I folded my arms, ignoring the little twinge under my left rib cage that wanted to give him points for being nice to Gina. "Right. Except the 'kid' is a full-grown woman, and I've seen what happens to women who go out with you. I can live without being threatened with manicure implements. Thanks anyway."

I walked around my desk and toward the door. "I really am very busy, and?—"

"I didn't go out with that woman," he said in a very quiet voice.

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