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“How many of you firefighters—men and women—are seriously interested in posing for this calendar? They would make some wild Christmas gifts.” Most everyone raised his or her hand as Graci-Ella took a count and wrote the number on her notepad.
Ivy Jo leaned forward in her chair. “How revealing are you getting in these pictures?”
“No nudity from the waist down. For the women firefighters, tank tops or sports bras. Their choice.”
Ivy Jo and Emily glanced at each other, nodded their approval and raised their hands.
Graci-Ella wrote something on the paper and looked at her watch. “Cripes. I have a meeting in half an hour so I need to head off. Captain, may I meet with your team a few more times after they’ve had a chance to think about it? And talk to their significant others, of course. I’ll bring by some calendars tonight I’ve done for various groups as fund raisers. Give them a chance to look over my work.”
“Sure, as long as we’re here and not out on some kind of emergency. Call first to save yourself a trip. Tiny, give her your cell number.” The corners of the chief’s mouth quirked—matchmaking bastard.
She sat next to Boyd and swiveled in her chair so her knees touched his thigh. Between her perfume and those long legs so close he could touch them, he was six heat beats away from doing something stupid. Just how would it feel to trail a finger up her firm thigh? The desire was so strong, he could sense beads of sweet popping out on his forehead.
Her blue eyes focused on his as she held her cell. “Your number, please? I really would like to talk to you some more about being in the calendar. Maybe tonight we can have a few moments of privacy?”
“Why me? Look around, there are plenty of muscular men in this unit. A little powder and lip gloss and whoever you pick will grab anyone’s attention.”
She smiled and looked away as if she didn’t want him to see it. So, her reply surprised him. “You have a sense of humor, kind of sharp-witted. I like that.” She rested her soft hand on his. “Please, give me a chance.”
Oh, he’d like to give her more than a chance, but this custody business had put a hold on his sex life. Boyd couldn’t allow any rumors to detract from the judge’s opinion of his ability to take better care of Matt than Chantel.
Two hours, four cups of coffee later and Graci-Ella was wired. She’d worked for Baker, Brannock, and Hughes law firm for two years, putting in extra hours just to keep her head above the heavy load. Too bad no one seemed to notice. Of course, how could anyone even see her behind the stacks of files on her desk? The new cases seemed to multiply at a faster rate than those she had ready for their court dates.
Her square office, with a small window, was claustrophobic. What she needed to do this weekend was rearrange the mismatched furniture, find a better way to store her files and add some plants. She glanced at the metal strips holding up the ceiling tile. If she got the right kind of hooks, she could add hanging plants without using any of her small floor space. How could her clients have any faith in her when they walked into this pitiful looking postage stamp?
Then there were her parents, who were chomping at the bit to fly south from Maryland to see her. They’d been aghast at her office on their first visit, but she’d told a small fib that she’d been working out of this tiny space until an office opened up. Her mother nearly turned herself inside out with outrage—her daughter deserved better. Yeah, well, the newest lawyer got the leftovers.
She glanced around her space. It was wall to wall, mismatched odds and ends. If her parents came down again, they’d insist on coming by to see her office. How could she face them with any pride when they saw she was still in the same spot, with zero career progression? Her dad would storm to one of the bosses’ office and demand to know why. For a classic car mechanic, her dad had a lot of nerve.
Co-worker Elizabeth Stone popped her head in Graci-Ella’s open door. “Hey, are you playing in the basketball game at the Y tomorrow? Lots of cute guys usually show. Of course you’ll have to let them make a basket now and then, so you don’t wound their male egos.”
“Ugh! I get so tired of the fragile male ego.” Graci-Ella forked her fingers through her long hair and chuckled. “No, I have a breakfast meeting with a client and then I’m thinking of coming in here to better organize this miniscule office the firm so kindly gave me. I feel like I’m working out of an old closet. Gives me the willies sometimes.”
Elizabeth looked around. “Come to think of it, paper, ink cartridges and toner used to be stored in here.” Both women laughed. “I need a favor. A huge favor.” Elizabeth extended three files.
“Beware of lawyers bearing files. What are they?” Why was she even asking? Obviously it was more work for her. Her gaze shifted to her two “in” piles and sighed.
“Cases I’m representing that I can’t handle right now. Baker assigned me the Middleton case this morning and it’s the most important one I’ve ever had. I need to do a top notch job in negotiating a huge payout. It could mean a big jump forward in my career.”
Ignoring the pang of jealousy, Graci-Ella congratulated her friend on the coup. “Look, hon, anytime one of the senior partners hands you something this important, it’s a colossal compliment. Take it and run with it. So, you want me to take over some of your cases?” Maybe she’d get some recognition for this extra effort.
Elizabeth leaned against the doorjamb. “Yes, Patrick’s taking over four. I gave three to Joe, but I figured you were the only one strong enough to handle these.” She shook the thick folders at her.
“Beware of sneaky lawyers bearing cases and compliments.” Graci-Ella laughed and extended her hand. Elizabeth had been the first lawyer to make her feel welcome at the firm. How could Graci-Ella forget her co-worker’s kindness by refusing to help her?
“Warning,” Elizabeth said before passing her the files. The one client is a whiny bitch. Name’s Chantel Calloway—a custody hearing. Woman needs a reality check and a bottle of Ritalin. I declare, she’ll be bitching one minute about how her ex ignored her and turned cold. Then suddenly ask you if you like the color of her fingernail polish. Don’t let her air-headed façade fool you, though. She’ll be bossing you around in no time. The woman’s obviously used to getting her way.
Graci-Ella leafed through them. “The custody case shouldn’t be so bad.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “Don’t worry. I don’t take shit from anyone. When’s the court date?” She found the page she was looking for. “November third. Looks like you’ve gotten most of the work done. Background check on the ex-husband completed?”
“Yeah, he seems clean to me. Still, I can understand a mother wanting custody of her kid. The second case is what should be a simple land dispute. We’ve got two senior citizens who want to argue over a foot of property, fifty feet long. Martha O’Shaye, the party we represent, and Nancy Beech, can’t be in the same room without World War Three breaking out. Martha claims the foot of land is hers and she wants to widen her driveway by twelve inches. Nancy wants to plant flower beds in that strip. I call it the case of the divas.” Linda shook her head. “One old woman claims the other’s dog craps on her yard in revenge, as if the damn dog would know the difference.”
Graci-Ella glared at the lawyer whose short, blonde hair was frizzier than usual. The humidity must be high today. “Oh, you’re going to owe me big time for this one. A whinny bitch and elderly divas?”
“Hold on. It gets better. The third is a DUI and disorderly, second offense.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for these cases?” Graci-Ella fought back a grin and lost. “Don’t expect me to buy you any coffee today…or tomorrow.” She glanced at the third file. What’s the deal with this one?”
Elizabeth folded her arms. “Paul Steinway is a horny bastard who chases any woman who breathes. The man even had the gall to proposition me. I fried his ears, but good. He has an alcohol problem and can’t say a sentence without two cuss words in it. Has temper issues—big time. Drove his truck into a convenience store when he found out they no longer handled his favorite brand of snuff.” She tipped her head toward the folder. “Thus the offense. A real class act. And he expects us to perform miracles so he doesn’t lose his job.” She glanced at her cell. “Look, gotta go. If you need me, I’ll be in the legal library. Thanks a lot.” She whizzed out of the doorway and, like last month’s paycheck, was gone.
Graci-Ella attached a court date label onto the edge of each file and placed them in chronological order to the stacks of files she needed to work on. She swiveled her chair to her computer and continued typing on the brief for a car theft ring she represented. Why did she always get the guilty jerks? She’d much rather represent some good people and see justice shine on their side.
To please her parents, Graci-Ella entered the legal profession, just as Eli had planned, when she’d sooner have gone into photography. All the years of law school, internship and cramming for the bar exams just to satisfy her folks, while they enjoyed their dreams of her future—especially after they’d lost Eli. Thank God her parents didn’t know she often had to represent the armpit of society.
Anytime she called home, the first words out of her dad’s mouth were, “Did you make junior partner yet?” From his jovial tone, she figured he was kidding—at least she hoped. He didn’t seem to understand she had several years of hard work ahead of her before she made that feat, no matter how many times she explained it to him. “Had you stayed here in Maryland, you’d have a junior partnership already.”
Of course when she was courted by the senior partners to join the firm, no one told her she’d get the worst cases until she proved herself. And just how was she to do that from a former closet? Her mother’s words came back to disturb her. “Bloom wherever you’re planted. Just make sure the soil is rich.” Graci-Ella growled deep in her throat. Achieve, triumph, surpass, I’ve had those words shoved down my throat since Eli was broadsided by another car. I am his substitute, which I understand because I miss him as much as my parents do.
Eli was the oldest and the brightest. He was also her hero. Without a word of complaint, he put up with her following him around, even to the community basketball courts. He taught her all he knew. So did his buddies. She held the old photo of the two of them under the basket over their garage door. Eli held the basketball in one hand and his other arm around her shoulders. His smile illuminated the picture while she stared up at him—her best bud.
Too bad she couldn’t have played basketball forever. The wooden court was where she felt at home throughout her high school and college years—running, dribbling, shoving, shooting. That was her first love. She glanced around her storage room turned legal office. This was her current cramped reality.
She groaned as she wrote her brief; wondered how her acquittal rate would be if she delivered her opening and closing arguments while dribbling a basketball. Her weird sense of humor fanaticized a hoop over the judge’s head and Graci-Ella shooting a three-pointer whenever the judge disagreed with something she said. Her laughter bubbled forth as she imagined beaning the opposing counsel on his ass whenever he made her client look bad.
By far, the basketball court outshone the legal court. At least for her, which was a sad admission when she’d worked so hard to pass the bar and get in with a firm. Maybe she needed to open her own office. Or perhaps she needed to make photography more of a vocation than a hobby. Especially if she could meet men like Tiny. Sweet chocolate cheesecake, but he was delicious looking. She’d like to bite his bicep and then kiss him all over just to make up for it.
Even so, the keep-your-distance vibe he emanated like a lighthouse beacon practically shouted he wasn’t interested in her, or any female. Just her luck. She’d like to go a little one on one with him and not just on the basketball court, either. Something about him stirred her hormones, which was quite peculiar for her—the focused, determined lawyer with goals a mile long.
CHAPTER TWO (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)
After lunch, Graci-Ella hurried to the law library for a book on quasi-torts and opened the glass door to find the lawyer at the top of the firm’s food chain. After a polite exchange of greetings, she took a deep breath and asked if she could spend some money to make her ex-storage room, now office more workable. To her relief, he gave her permission and also told her to have the building manager show her the office furniture the firm no longer used. Maybe she could find some things there, especially since some of the junior partners had just ordered new office cabinets and desks.
Mental fist pump. Score!
So, when she normally took her afternoon break, she knocked on the building manager’s door. With her room’s layout sketched on paper, she’d asked him if he had anything that matched and was usable. “Oh, and comfortable would be nice too.”
He scratched his head for a minute. “Didn’t this used to be the old supply room before they made a bigger one?”
“You got it, Jo-Jo. In there sits a huge metal desk—brown. Two metal file cabinets—gray. One metal folding client chair—red. A black office chair that leans and has upended with me in it—five times.”
“How long you been here? A couple years?” He shook his tanned bald head, trimmed with a fringe of white hair. “Ain’t that a damn shame. Bet you’re still getting the shit cases no one else wants. And I lay you dollars to donuts, you’re putting in more hours than anyone else, trying to prove yourself.” He ambled away from her and motioned over his shoulder. “Follow me. Ol’ Jo-Jo gonna treat you right.” He glanced at the paper again. “These measurements correct?”
“Yes, sir.” She glanced around and saw two dark-green leather, club chairs that matched. She rubbed her hands over the soft leather. “Oh, wish I had room for these. I love the color.”
Jo-Jo shoved a matching wheeled office chair her way. “Try that on for size. I can adjust the height for you, lumbar support too.” He pulled out a unit with two horizontal filing drawers and book shelves on top of those. A corner unit was next, along with a desk. He measured the corner unit and desk together and looked at his paper. He found two other matching units. One had filing drawers, but was deeper. A skinnier one had shelves with lockable sliding doors. “Which one do you want?” He pointed to the thinner one. This will give you eight more inches of room.”
“I’ll take it. One question. The aluminum strips that hold the ceiling tiles, are they strong enough to hang a plant?”
“If the pot’s plastic and you don’t drench the plant with water, yes. No more than two, though.”
She opened her arms. “So, I can have all this? And it’ll still leave me room to move around in my tiny office?” After Jo-Jo showed her how to place everything on her drawing, she hugged him and squealed with joy. She didn’t think she’d stopped smiling the rest of the afternoon.
Once her day at the office was over, she grabbed a salad at her favorite take-out spot and went home to eat and unwind. High heels in hand, she went into her bedroom to change into something cool and comfortable. She called Tiny to make sure the firefighters were there before she drove to the station.
“Boyd here.”
“So, I finally learn your real name.” She smiled as she pulled a tank top from her drawer.
“All you needed to do was ask me. I have no secrets.” His deep voice raised goosebumps on her skin.
“Are we in a grumpy mood this evening?”
“No.” He sighed. “Maybe. Was my night to cook and I burned the lasagna. We had a marine rescue earlier this afternoon, so I thought if turned the oven up to five hundred, supper would get done quicker.”
She laughed. “Oh no. Who puts the oven up that high?”
“A man whose hungry, that’s who. All it did was set off the smoke alarms and cause me to get my ass chewed out. I’m trying to figure how to get the scorched cheese and meat out of the pans. Hey, you don’t do dishes do you?” A tinge of his humor was in his voice. “Have you ever eaten lasagna with a fork in one hand and a chainsaw in another?”
Once she stopped laughing, she made a suggestion. “Run a knife along the edge to get out what you can and then soak them in hot, soapy water for a while. I’m just calling to make sure the team will be there if I come by.”
“As of now, we’re just cleaning equipment. Routine stuff. Come on over.”
When she pulled into the parking lot of Fire and Marine Rescue Station Thirty-two, Wolf and a curvy redhead were sitting at a picnic table under a palm tree. A German shepherd sat on Wolf’s lap as if he hadn’t seen his master for weeks. Wolf waved her over as she pulled out a canvas bag of calendars and a portfolio of pictures.
“Graci-Ella, come meet my wife, Becca. Don’t you think she glows with her pregnancy?” The man’s smile nearly split his face in two. He reached for his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles.
Becca pursed her lips and blushed. “I’m surprised you don’t make me wear a sandwich sign that reads, ‘This woman is pregnant!’ She stood and shook Graci-Ella’s hand. “Never mind him. He’s just happy we finally got it right. So, you’re the photographer everyone’s teasing Tiny about?”
Something in the woman’s kind demeanor made Graci-Ella smile. “Yes, I’m the photographer, but why are folks ragging Tiny about me?”
Becca leaned in. “Because he hasn’t dated since he was served with custody papers for his little boy. He’s trying so hard to be Mr. Perfect. You evidently rattled his celibacy cage when you showed up this morning.”
Was that why he was so adamant about not being in the calendar? Did he think avoiding women would look favorable to the court? Was he divorced or still married? That would be the deciding factor, that and how often he left his son with a sitter overnight.
The dog looked at Wolf as if he were insulted and whined. He licked Wolf’s chin, no doubt to remind him he was there.
Wolf rubbed the canine’s head. “Sorry, buddy. Graci-Ella, this is Einstein. If you call him over, he’ll offer you his paw to shake. He’s the best dog in the world.”
Einstein barked and jumped down. Graci-Ella called him over and he pranced around the end of the picnic table, his tongue lolling crooked from his mouth. He sat in front of her and held out his paw. She shook it gently. “My, aren’t you handsome? Do you have a leash along? I’ll walk you around the building.”
Einstein romped to Becca and gently took a leash from her hand before giving it to Graci-Ella. “Does he enjoy running?” She petted Einstein as she clipped the leash onto his collar.
“He loves a good run. Wolf won’t let me take him on runs anymore, just slow jogs.”
Graci-Ella stood and rubbed the dog’s neck. “Einstein, sounds like we could both use some fast exercise. Two times around the building.”
Wolf laughed. “If you sense twenty pair of male eyes on you, it’s not a phantom feeling.”
Right, as if I haven’t had men watch me run before. She and Einstein took off.
CHAPTER THREE (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)
Feet pounded past the opened kitchen windows while Boyd and Quinn were rinsing dishes and loading dishwashers. Boyd’s neck snapped a fast second glance, and he nearly got whiplash. He kept holding a plate under the water spray as he leaned toward the screen to watch Graci-Ella—her come-to-Jesus legs in navy shorts, full breasts in an apricot tank top and a long ponytail that swished back and forth with each stride. His heart pounded with every pace she made.
Quinn jerked the plate from Boyd’s hand. “Man, I don’t know who’s breathing faster right now. Her running or you watching.”
“Bite me.” Boyd leaned farther toward the window so he could keep his eyes on her after she passed by with Einstein. Quinn shifted behind him and shouldered Boyd’s ass until his knees were on the counter. “What the fuckin’ hell, Quinn?” A giggling shove and Boyd’s knees slipped into the double sink—one side full of hot soapy water soaking lasagna pans and the other with the faucet running cold water.
Quinn, the bastard, was laughing and grabbing for the sprayer.
“Oh no! Oh, hell no!” Boyd struggled for the sprayer, too, in an effort to avoid the shower he was about to get. In the scuffle, he slipped forward and banged his chin on the window sill, which gave Quinn enough time to gain control of the sprayer and douse him good with cold water.
Boyd elbowed his co-worker, who lost his balance, slipped on the wet floor and ripped the sprayer’s hose from the faucet assembly. Water flew. Guys came running to see what all the commotion was about. Boyd didn’t doubt for a minute he made a fine sight with his ass in the air and his knees in the sink. He pushed off the window sill and flipped backwards, his sneakers skidding in two different directions until his back hit the floor.
Quinn, bless his demented ass, laughed so loud it evidently drew the captain out of his office.
“What in the God damn hell is going on? Someone turn off the water and fix the hose. One of you little boys better mop up the floor.” Captain Steele was known for having spic and span station and that included the kitchen.
Quinn was known for his big mouth. “Hell, captain, I was only helping Tiny watch the photographer run by the building with Einstein.”
Feet stampeded to the windows on the other side of the building. Whistles and crude remarks exploded from the gang at the other windows. Damn the rest of the guys for watching her run. They had no right to drool over her.
Boyd was so pissed, he spun to head for the mop and bucket, shooting Quinn a glare as he stormed to where the cleaning supplies were stored. Never one to back down, Quinn grabbed Boyd’s bicep and leaned in. “If you want her, you better make it known.”
“Oh, like you did with Cassie? You damn near drove her away. Besides, I’ve got that custody hearing…”
Quinn’s voice softened. “Don’t pound the hell out of me for this, but I think you’ve got a worthless lawyer. He’s got you scared to do anything but work and take care of Matt. What do you do the weekends the kid’s with his mother? Do you party, date, bay at the moon? No.”
“I get together with you guys when you have picnics or basketball games.”
“You need to live, brother. An occasional date would not make you a bad parent. The hell with what that lawyer told you. Cassie’s afraid you’ve turned off your sex drive. She wants to line you up with some of her friends. You know how she gets once she snags onto an idea.”
Boyd, who was still dealing with half a woody, chuffed a laugh. “Tell her my sex drive is working fine. I’m just keeping it in neutral until after the hearing.” He shook his index finger at Quinn. “Tell that sweet wife of yours I would not appreciate her matchmaking help.” He made a snap decision to get out of his wet clothes and headed for the sleeping quarters to change before he mopped the kitchen floor.
He’d just swabbed the area in front of the sink when the horny herd charged toward the open back door where Graci-Ella was evidently passing. He spun to snatch another look at her after she rounded the building, but thought better of it. Surely she deserved more than to be ogled like some sex object.
When he stepped outside to empty his bucket, Einstein barked a greeting as he cleared the end of the fire station. Boyd stepped inside to grab a bowl to fill with water for the dog and snatched a bottle of water out of the refrigerator for Graci-Ella. He carried both outside for the runners. He set Einstein’s bowl on the grass next to the sidewalk. Both the dog and the beauty stopped running.
“Oh, a life-saver.” Graci-Ella accepted the bottle and unscrewed the top. “Thanks for being so considerate.” She gulped a few swigs, watching Einstein put his muzzle into the bowl, take several laps and then lick Boyd’s calf in gratitude. The corners of her mouth quirked. “Just don’t expect me to do that.”
“What? Lick my calf?” Hell, his voice cracked like an adolescent. He had to get a grip where she was concerned.
She nodded, guzzling more water.
His cock nodded, too. Thank God he’d changed into a pair of baggy cargo shorts. His instant erection wasn’t so obvious, but since he couldn’t stop thinking of her tongue on any part of his body, the damn thing lengthened and thickened some more. He stooped and petted Einstein in an effort to hide it until his mind got off her tongue. Of course, the damn dog licked Boyd’s crotch, then lifted his hind leg and licked his doggie privates.
“Do you have some free time to talk to me? We could sit on the bench in front of the palms and those pretty orchids.” She motioned with her bottle to the bench she meant.
“Sure. Let me go in and grab a soda. Do you want one or maybe some more water?”
