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“See, there’s this certain opposing counsel that makes the most delicious noises when my fingers are—”

I spin on my heel, hissing under my breath as we come to a stop in front of the large glass doors that lead outside the courthouse. “I told you,” I grit out. “Last time was the last time.”

“Right.” He flashes me his perfect white teeth—stark against the deep pink of his lips—and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on his. “But you said that the time before that.” He leans in a little closer, practically looming over me as he lowers his voice. “And the time before that…and the time before that…”

“I mean it this time,” I argue, trying to convince him or me, I’m not sure. “It was stupid to begin with. You’re an asshole, and I was…”Hard up? Horny? Out of my mind?“It was a lapse of judgment on my part.”

“Eight lapses of judgment,” Ezra says with a low whistle. “I think they call that a bad habit, Dani. Maybeyouneed a hobby. You know, besides me.”

I clench my fists at my sides; I know he’s teasing me, but it hits a little too close to home. Especially because Iknowthat constantly sleeping with Ezra—someone I barely tolerate outside of what we do behind closed doors—is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. After everything with Grant…you’d think I would make smarter decisions when it comes to the opposite sex.

It’s just sex,I soothe myself.Just scratching an itch.

Even if I’ve scratched this particular itch more times than I’d like.

I make a frustrated sound, shoving him away and pushingthrough the doors as I stalk off quickly. He doesn’t follow me this time, but I can hear his stupid laugh even from halfway down the steps.

Fucking. Ezra. Hart.

•••

I feel alittle less out of sorts when I’m back at the firm; I’m not thrilled to tell my boss how miserably today went with the Johansons, but at least here I can put the headache of Ezra’s and my antagonistic…whatever we have…at the back of my mind for a little bit. I drop my case files in my office, noticing on my way out that Nate’s and Vera’s are empty; I guess they’ve already headed home for the day.

The door to Manuel’s office is cracked at the other end of the hall, however, and I step toward it to update him on everything before I finish up for the day myself. I find him sitting behind his desk poring over a stack of papers, his neat, salt-and-pepper hair swept into his usual perfect style. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Manuel Moreno with a single hair out of place.

“Danica,” he greets as I knock lightly against the open door. “Come in, come in. How did it go today?”

I purse my lips. “Not as well as I would have liked. The guy she was seeing was apparently her ‘spiritual advisor.’ ”

The deep wrinkle that lives permanently between Manuel’s brow worsens. “That’s the horseshit they’re spinning?”

“Well, horseshit does happen to be a specialty of Ezra’s.”

“I want to hate the bastard,” Manuel snorts. “But he’s damn good.”

I refuse to even acknowledge how “good” Ezra is.

“I’ve got a lead on a housekeeper that quit a couple of months ago,” I tell him. “I’m trying to get in touch with her. Maybe she saw something between them of a morephysicalnature. Thankfully I mentioned her as a potential witness in the pretrial order.”

“Great. Let me know.”

I’m about to return to my desk when he stops me.

“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he calls.

I turn back. “Yes?”

“We had a potential client call today. A Mrs. Casiraghi.”

I frown. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Her husband owns Casiraghi Development.”

“Shit.” My mouth parts in surprise. “The real estate mogul?”

“He owns half the city, practically. God knows how many others.”

“They’re divorcing?”