Page 7 of By Invitation Only

“Hey, Peyton.”

I turned to see Clint Davis from Booker’s firm coming down the stairs. Their firm was mostly male attorneys, and they all seemed to think their shit didn’t stink. His slicked back blond hair was perfectly in place, his suit had no wrinkles, and he smelled likeOld Spice.

“Hey, Clint.”

“Your case, Marriage of Waterford?”

“Yeah?” I responded as I stopped with one leg on a lower step than my other.

“I was just retained by the husband.”

“Great. It will be lovely to work with you again.” Really it wasn’t, but I was being nice. Clint had a sleazeball vibe to him. “I look forward to it.” I went to continue down the stairs, but his words halted me.

“Do you want to go get a drink? Talk about the case?”

It was not my practice to go get drinks with opposing counsels and talk about any cases. When I left the office, I left my work there. Sure I thought about cases, but I didn’t think it was fair to bill my client for happy hour.

“I haven’t received the sub of attorney yet, Clint,” I said, trying to deflect his question.

He dug in the brown, expanding file folder he was holding. “I actually just had it filed.”

Well, fuck.

He handed me the filed copy, and I took it, trying to think of something quick to say. “I can’t, Clint. I have a client meeting.”

“Tonight then. I need to get caught up on the case.”

Read the file!“I’m sorry, I have plans. Why don’t you set a meeting with my assistant and we can discuss things?”

“It’s a harmless drink.”

This guy didn’t quit. Just as I was about to respond, Booker, of all people, walked up the stairs. Our eyes met, and there was disgust in his eyes as he passed, though the disgust was directed at his co-worker.Interesting.

“I didn’t say getting a drink wouldn’t be harmless. You’re married anyway.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Booker’s steps falter as he chuckled. “I’m just really busy and think it’s best we set a meeting in my office—or your office. Whatever works.” As I turned to leave, I called over my shoulder, “Have a nice day.”

“So you and Clint, huh?”

I jolted at Booker’s question as he sat next to me in the back of the courtroom. I turned and rolled my eyes at him. “Um, no.”

“That wanker wants to get in your knickers.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. That wouldneverhappen. “Do you talk about all your co-workers like that?” I didn’t know the British language all that well, but I knew wanker wasn’t a good term.

Booker smirked. “Only the ones who deserve it.”

We sat in silence as I watched my client walk in and find a seat on the opposite side from me. Usually, I would sit next to my client, but being next to Booker was doingthingsto me. My run in with Sam on Friday night must have had my brain thinking of sex because I started thinking about giving Booker a blow job. A blow jobin the middle of courtto Booker, who was gorgeous on the outside, but nasty on the inside.

Okay, to be fair I didn’t know if Booker was nasty on the inside. I’d only ever talked to him about cases, and I knew of his reputation. I just assumed since he liked to poke the bear in a sense, that he was that way in and out of court. So why the hell my brain was envisioning myself giving him a BJ was beyond me.

I was trying not to be turned on even more by Booker’s scent of sandalwood and musk when the bailiff finally called our case. We stood, and Booker motioned for me to go before him. As I made my way up the center, the Bailiff instructed everyone who wasn’t a party to the case or an attorney to leave the courtroom. Because it was a custody case, and all child custody cases were confidential, the courtroom needed to be empty. It wasn’t your typical child custody case where the parents were fighting over who would get the child. No, Booker’s client wanted grandparent rights. The grandmother wanted custody of the little girl based on bullshit she thought was true.

We all walked up to the two tables before the judge, Booker and his client on the left, my client and I on the right. We sat and waited for the judge to begin.

The judge read a file on his desk as he spoke, “We’re here on the motion from attorney Jameson for modification of child custody. I’ve reviewed the motion. Counsel, do you have anything to add?”

“Yes, thank you, Your Honor.” Booker stood, buttoned his black suit jacket and started speaking again. “My client is the grandmother to Ms. Winter’s client’s ten-year-old daughter, and it has come to my client’s attention that Ms. Alexander is going to clubs almost every night and leaving her daughter, Carly, at home by herself.”

That wasn’t true.