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" N ow what? And, really, you don't need to keep impressing me with your charm and southern hospitality, Addie." I pulled my legal pad toward me. I had a feeling I was going to need a very clear memory of this particular phone call.

"Look, Miss Vaughn, these cases are moving along at a quick pace. Does your client really have time for you to piss around learning how to be a player in the big leagues? Sarah Greenberg is already up to speed. Wouldn't you be doing Mr. Deaver a favor by referring the case to her?" If a man's voice can sneer, his was doing it.

Creep .

"Hey, Addie, how about you let me worry about who does favors for my client? Speaking of moving things along at a fast pace, how about that past-due discovery that Mr. Deaver's previous lawyer served on you? Where are those responses, Mr. Speedy?"

He made some choking sound, but I barreled forward. "Right. I thought so. And you with two past-due letters already. Please consider this to be your single verbal follow up. If I don't get those responses within forty-eight hours, I'm moving to compel. I'll be sure and jot that down on paper for you, too. Are there two Ds in Addison?"

He slammed the phone down with enough force that I flinched, and he probably cracked the plastic on his handset. Or maybe at Langley Cowan they only had platinum-plated phones. As I replaced the receiver in the phone cradle, it rang again.

"He's probably calling back to apologize," I muttered, then picked up the phone again.

"May I help you?" I asked in my most sickeningly sweet voice.

"December?" Max asked. "Is that you? What happened to your voice? You sound sick."

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 warned Max .

"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 to pretend to 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 you might have noticed the degrees hanging on my wall? So not 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.

"What?" I turned to look at him, and he was staring at me with that same look of serious intensity in his eyes that he'd had at the jail. The temperature in the room shot up a few hundred degrees.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't go out with that woman in the bar. Or even with Gina, beyond two dinners more than a year and a half ago. She develops obsessions and has a hard time letting go, according to her shrink. You might quit jumping to conclusions long enough to listen to me, Counselor."

"I—"

"Right. Whatever." He stood up in a smooth motion that reminded me of a leopard I'd seen pacing at the zoo. I wasn't sure which of the two would be more dangerous.

Enough with the woo woo stuff, December. He's just an ordinary, if good-looking, guy. Get over it, already.

He reached into his pocket, and I felt my body tense up.

He noticed it, too, and raised his eyebrows. "Do I make you nervous, December?"

I lifted my chin. "Not hardly, Brody. It would take more than one little P.I. to make you nervous. What are you, former Jacksonville Sheriff's Office?" A lot of the investigators I'd known started out in the sheriff's department.

He smiled that dangerous smile again. "No, I used to work for Uncle Sam. The Navy."

"Oh, my dad was in the Navy. He was a flight engineer on P-3s. What did you do?"

"I didn't get to wear the pretty uniform all that much," he said, taking a step toward me.

I took a step back, warning bells jangling.

He smiled again. "I do a lot of work for the law firms in town, if you ever need my services. Just call me. I owe you one." He tossed a business card on my desk, then brushed past me on his way to my door. "Later, Vaughn."

I closed my eyes and let out the breath I'd been holding in for what felt like the past ten minutes, then my eyes shot back open as I felt his breath on the side of my neck. "Hmmm," he purred in my ear. "You have that effect on me, too. This is going to be an interesting friendship."

By the time I thought up a good comeback and whirled around, he was gone.

I'm in all kinds of trouble.

A lmost time to go home, and the phone had been blessedly silent for the rest of the afternoon as I worked on Charlie's case and spent almost fifteen whole minutes wrestling with what Max liked to call our office budget.

We had no money and no real paying clients.

That's our budget.

My savings would run out in less than three months if I didn't start making some money. So, of course, I was planning out my pro bono work, right?

Suicidal optimism .

The phone rang, and I picked up. "Hey, Max. Why don't you head home? I'm almost done for now."

"Yeah, I'm on my way out. But you have Gina Schiantelli on line two for you. Good night."

"Maybe she wants help to find a therapist. Thanks for making that list of social services for me. Good night."

I picked up line two, smiling at the thought of playing Helpful Lawyer again. "Hello, Gina?—"

Hideous shrieking cut me off. "You stay away from him! I saw him go to your office! You stay away from Jake, or I'll cut all that blonde hair off and stuff it up your?—"

"Whoa! What are you talking about? Jake stopped by to talk about YOU, Gina. You need to calm down, and we can?—"

"No, you need to calm down, or you're going to be in big trouble. Got it? BIG trouble!"

At least I held the phone away from my ear as she slammed the phone down. I was getting plenty of practice.

Really, isn't this solo practitioner thing just the most fun I've had since that time I got food poisoning?

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the business card, then dialed the number and waited for voice mail to kick in. "Jake Brody? This is December Vaughn. Keep your psycho girlfriend away from me!"

Then, for the first time all day, I slammed down my phone.

Oddly, it didn't make me feel a darn bit better.