Paul could only nod.
“He was a good man. I know I said this to you at the time, but I am sorry for your loss.”
Paul ducked his head. He knew the grief would be written plainly on his face. “Yes, sir.”
In answer, Pratt simply gripped Paul’s shoulder a bit tighter, then let go. “Now, have Martha call my assistant, get us set up for the morning. We’ll work something in, even if it’s over coffee and breakfast.”
“Thank you, sir,” Paul managed in a modulated tone, in spite of the memories choking his throat.
Passing through the halls, Paul acknowledged the hails of his peers and accepted their congratulations. He was thankful for the distraction. With the walk to his office punctuated by such good cheer, as well as some open envy, he was able to recover his equilibrium. Everything was off balance, and it was making him distrust his own judgment.
How could he be objective about anything when he was still grieving the loss of someone he’d known for so long? Then, to have Torie be involved, and to have become involved with Torie…
The thought of her hot and passionate beneath him, the image of her, the thought of her delicious moans of completion made him detour to the men’s room. It wouldn’t do to walk into his office, knowing she waited there, with anything less than a clear mind. Thoughts of her tangled up his senses so badly, he needed a moment to compose himself.
He didn’t even turn on the hot water. He splashed straight cold water, nearly glacial, on his face. It helped to clear his mind and divert his thoughts. He pushed the towels into the bin as the door opened.
“Oh, hello, Paul,” Melvin said. Irritation was obvious in his demeanor. “Done with the meeting?”
“Yes, thanks.” Paul picked up his paperwork, but Melvin blocked his path. “What’s up?”
“It’s been a long time coming,” Melvin said, his eyes hard.
“What?”
“Todd. I’m sorry he’s dead, but he lived a crazy life.”
Fury clouded Paul’s mind to hear his friend dismissed so tersely. For Melvin, whom he and Todd had nicknamed Weaselboy when they were pledges together, to say something so carelessly stupid was beyond insulting.
Paul bit back the words that clamored to spew forth. Through his anger, he recognized that Melvin was baiting him, hoping for Paul to say or do something stupid, something rash.
It was a pattern Melvin employed to get people fired. People he disliked. People he wanted out of the way.
Weaselboy. He’s such a needy little piss. Paul could almost hear Todd’s drawling, insulting voice in his mind. It snapped him out of the fog of reaction.
“He lived a better life than either of us, Mel-vin.” Paul managed a calm voice, and he could tell he’d scored a point when he emphasized the other man’s name, adding the deliberate twist several of the partners used when speaking of him. “And,” he added as he stepped around Melvin to open the door, “he would have beaten both of us to partner if he’d stayed.”
The parting shot hit home. Paul nearly grinned to hear the muffled slam of a stall door striking the wall. Todd would have enjoyed that.
Thoughts of Todd and the pain of his loss walked with him the rest of the way to his office. Martha was away from her desk, and he opened the door and walked into his own area, sure he’d find Torie on the phone.
Instead, he stopped dead, shocked to see her sitting at the table her head in her hands, tissue box at her elbow.
“Torie?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, hastily wiping her eyes. “I was just…”
“Crying.”
She dropped her gaze. “Yeah. That, too. I guess I got a little overwhelmed.”
He closed the door. Locked it.
“Understandable. Here.” He pulled out her chair, took her hand, and brought her to her feet. “I think we both need this.”
His nerves were sizzling as he eased her into his arms, cradling her head into that perfect spot at his shoulder. As they had that morning, their bodies fit together. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, savoring the sense of her close to his heart.
After a few minutes, he finally asked, “What started all this?”
“I have to go to my office,” she said on a hiccupping sigh. Her hands were tucked into his chest, as if she were afraid to hold on, afraid to allow herself to trust. “To get a key. They said, they said…” She stopped, drawing a deep breath and burrowing more firmly into his arms. “They said such stupid stuff about me in the paper. How can I go back there?”
“You won’t have to. Trust me. Not to work.” He eased her away just enough that she looked up at him. All trace of makeup had been washed away by her crying jag. She looked vulnerable and lost. It made him want to fix it. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Hope blossomed in her eyes, quickly followed by confusion. “I…I’d love it, but you don’t have to do that.” She sighed. “It helps just to be able to say how much it sucks.”
He laughed. “Yeah, but I’ll go with you anyway. Here,” he said, getting her to look up again, “this will make you feel better.”
Paul kissed her. This time, he skipped gentle and went straight to desire. He caught her mouth and her quick gasp in a fiery kiss that he hoped left no question about how he felt. Part of his mind was busy planning which stable surface he could lift her onto, and drive them both beyond thinking with fast, hot lovemaking.
“Wow,” Torie managed when they paused for breath. He wanted to start again, drive her further, but he knew he had to stop.
“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” he murmured, resting his cheek on her hair. He could smell the strawberry shampoo his nieces had left in the bathroom the last time they’d visited. It was the first time strawberries had turned him on.
“A good one,” she said, her breath coming short as he laughed and kissed her again, briefly this time.
“Take your mind off things?”
“Pretty much,” she admitted. “I was supposed to be thinking during that?”
Paul laughed, enjoying the moment. “No, absolutely not. No thinking.”
“Okay, warning bells,” she said. “I’m thinking now.” Torie pushed him away, although she didn’t entirely leave the circle of his arms.
“Damn.”
It was her turn to laugh. It was still a bit shaky, but it was a laugh.
“I thought we said this was a bad idea. I’m your client, and all that. What about that?”
“It is a bad idea, but pretty much only for that reason.”
She smiled but it held a lot of puzzlement. “Not to look a…well, let’s call it a gift horse, though I could be saucy and call it something else…in the mouth, but we don’t like each other. Right?”
“Who says?”
Torie laughed, but it was sad again. “Pretty much everyone. Including us.”
“Hmmm. Old news. Time to turn over a new leaf, don’t you think?”
She smiled, and it was stronger this time. “I didn’t get the memo, but hey, I’m willing to get some fresh news.”
“Good. So, what do you say to dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah. As in food. Eating. Together.”
“I know what you mean, but—” she began.
“Not burgers. Casual, but nicer than Bob’s Grill and Grease.”
He wanted to pull her in again, gauge her reactions from the way her body fit. She was recovering from her bout of sorrow though, he could tell. Standing taller, she eased further away. “I’d like that. Thank you. I accept.”
“Good.” He let her go, knowing she needed to feel stable on her own, but wishing he could shoulder some of the burden for her.
The thought shocked him.
“Is something wrong?”
With a mental shake, he brought himself back to the moment. “No, not at all. I was just thinking that we could kill two birds with one stone. We’ll go by your office, pick up that key you need.” He stopped. “Is it something you have to get? As your counsel, I have to say that dealing with them right now might not be a good idea. In fact,” he said as he sat down at the table, leading her to sit as well, “you might have grounds for a suit, especially if your employers continue to speak to the press.”