Dear Jane Read online

  Then, a week after that, came the guy who was so obsessed with an online game, he actually played it on his phone under the counter at the bar. She excused herself to use the ladies room and had dinner at the restaurant next door. When she returned forty-five minutes later, the guy was so engrossed in his game, he didn’t notice her grab her jacket and leave. Hopefully, her date with Eric’s friend, Aldo, would go better tonight.

  Jane peeked her head out of her office to see if Eric’s morning meeting had ended, but his door was still closed.

  Spending time with him after each fiasco was the only high point in all this dating madness. Always funny, always supportive, and always…there. If it weren’t for the fact he was a lawyer, he’d be the ideal man. She heaved a deep, soap opera-worthy sigh, and smoothed her hair, which was rolled into a tight bun. Clearly, her crush on Eric wasn’t fading even a little bit. In fact, it had grown from schoolgirl crush to heavy-duty full-grown-woman crush with all the requisite heated body parts and inappropriate thoughts. Well, the thoughts would have been perfectly appropriate if he’d been anything but a lawyer. Or co-worker. Or interested.

  She returned to her desk and stared out the window at the morning rush hour gridlock on the street below. Since it looked like the Anderson deal was going through and she’d gotten excellent settlements on her last two cases, there was a strong likelihood they would both be promoted to junior partner soon. One of them would have to quit if they were to date, and you don’t quit a job when partner’s in the offing. Even if you hate that job.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet, and she slumped into her chair as realization hit: she hated her job. That had never occurred to her before.

  Dixons were lawyers. All of them. It was what they did. Men and women both. It was a legacy. A right of passage… She looked around her perfectly appointed office at the best law firm, in the best building, in the best part of the city.

  She covered her face and took a deep breath. She’d worked hard for this. She’d earned it. She deserved it. She was a Dixon. This was what Dixons did. It was expected of her. She lowered her hands and pushed the intercom button. “Okay, Marcie. I’m ready for my appointment. Please send Mrs. Zimmerman back.”

  …

  Eric couldn’t believe it. The Anderson contracts were signed by both parties and the financials had been approved by the bankers. He stared at the documents in a tidy pile on his desk and fought the urge to shout and fist-pump in the air.

  This was what it was about. This was what he wanted. What he needed. All he needed…

  Only, it would be a lot better if he could share his news with Jane. When he’d checked her door a few minutes ago, it was closed with a note saying she was in a client meeting. Funny how over the past month, he’d become so close to her. How sharing good news with her made it even better. They not only had their Friday movie nights, they shared their lunchtime every day as well, ordering in and sitting on opposite sides of his desk, laughing over jokes or childhood stories. Jane Dixon knew more about him than anyone.

  He’d been so focused on work and making money the last several years, he’d not maintained any close friendships. His single-minded, focused lifestyle hadn’t bothered him really, until now. Even breaking up with Shannon hadn’t brought home what a workaholic he’d become like this last month had. This was the first time in his adult life that he’d wished for something else. Even with the closing of this pivotal deal, work didn’t feel like enough anymore.

  He moved the Anderson papers to the side of his desk.

  Surely, this was just a phase. He was probably just getting sick or something. Work was his life. His dad had lived it up and played, and look what a mess that turned out to be.

  But there was something about Jane that made him want to play. To work normal hours and come home to her every night and share stories of their days and then strip down to their underwear and…

  He opened his file drawer with a bang.

  No! No more daydreams about Jane Dixon in her underwear—or out of it. The non-fraternization clause prohibited it. Her distaste for dating lawyers prohibited it. And his commitment to work-first prohibited it.

  He pulled out the Smith Steel merger file and set it in the center of his desk. If he could make this merger happen by Monday, the promotion to junior partner was in the bag. While he still had his wits about him, he fired off a text to Jane.

  “Can’t make it tonight. Hope it goes well with Aldo.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane pushed the tissue box closer to her client, Kim Zimmerman.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Dixon. I’m just so miserable. I wish I could go back in time and change everything.” She blew her nose and adjusted her designer frames that coordinated with her bag and shoes.

  If this woman didn’t get her act together, she’d be accessorizing at Big Bob’s Bargain Store.

  Jane sat up straighter, girding herself for the customary speech she delivered when a client exhibited signs of capitulation. “In order to achieve the most beneficial settlement in this divorce, we need to have a strong case to present. Your husband’s lawyer is making unreasonable demands regarding the division of property and it will hurt you and the kids in the long run.”

  The woman wasn’t listening, and Jane knew it. She’d seen this hundreds of times: divorce remorse—the case of cold feet that comes after the marital cold feet. If Mrs. Zimmerman didn’t pull herself together, this whole deal might turn into a major loss. This was a nasty, public divorce, and her politician husband was pulling out all the stops since he switched lawyers.

  “The goal is to be awarded as much of the property and assets as possible to assure a secure future for you and the kids.”

  “No.” Mrs. Zimmerman wiped her eyes. “That’s your goal. My goal is love and happiness for myself and my children.”

  Well, what the hell was she supposed to say to that? Nothing, that’s what. What could she say? Her heart went out to her client, and anyone who was in turmoil. Jane’s job, though, was to secure a financial settlement as amicable and profitable as possible for her client—something Mrs. Zimmerman would need when the divorce was finalized and the smoke cleared. She flipped a page in the most recent demands from the spouse’s lawyer.

  “Do you have children?” the woman asked.

  She got this one a lot. Almost as much as she heard “Why aren’t you dating someone?” from her family.

  “No.”

  “Are you even married?”

  “No.” God, this day sucked so far.

  “Then what makes you qualified to sit on the other side of that desk and tell me what I need to do?”

  Well, that was a new one. “My law degree and Board Specialization in Family Law.”

  The woman sat back and stared at her, and Jane fought the urge to squirm. Her client was clearly hurting, but Jane had no clue how to help her, other than legal recourse.

  Kim Zimmerman placed her hand over her heart. “Your qualification should come from here. Everything should come from here.” She pointed to her head. “It’s when our decisions only come from here that we are in trouble. It’s why I’m in trouble right now.”

  The primary thing in trouble right now was Mrs. Zimmerman’s future bank account balance. “I understand that you’re unhappy, but if you—”

  “Unhappy?” She stood up. “That’s not even close. I’m miserable. I can’t do this anymore. Give him the money. Give him the house. None of that matters.” Her voice was shrill and loud.

  Whoa. Jane needed to get the conference back under control so she could help this woman. “What matters to you, then?”

  “Love.”

  Oh great.

  “Love matters,” she continued, twisting the Kleenex in her hands. “I love Bernard. I always have. I knew from the first minute I saw him that he was different. That we belonged together. He was the only man I could be myself with. He still is.” She yanked another Kleenex from the box. “And this is all my fault. We blurted out
some foolish things in anger. Things neither of us meant, and now we’re too proud to back down and admit to our friends and family that we were wrong.” She stood and put her bag over her shoulder. “He’s agreed to pay the kids’ school tuition, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She signed the bottom of the form Mr. Zimmerman’s attorney had sent. “Then, give him the house and anything else he demanded. None of it matters if I don’t have him.”

  “I think this is a huge mistake, Mrs. Zimmerman… Kim. Please rethink this.”

  She stopped at the door. “You’ve given me lots of advice over the last month, Ms. Dixon, so let me give you some I have learned from this divorce business: act from your heart. Follow your instincts, and never, ever do something because someone else thinks you should.”

  Jane sat back and stared at the closed door after Mrs. Zimmerman left. What the hell was that? She’d seen a lot of things: anger, remorse, capitulation, even bone-deep need for revenge—but she’d never seen someone throw her arms up and quit like this.

  With a heavy sigh, she dialed Mr. Zimmerman’s lawyer’s office to give him the happy news. When she opened her drawer to pull out a pen to make notes, she saw Eric’s message on her cell. “Can’t make it tonight. Hope it goes well with Aldo.”

  It was at that moment Jane Dixon realized just how messed up her life had become.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Cancelled with Aldo. Need to see you.”

  Eric stared at Jane’s text for a full minute before setting his phone on his desk. “Need to see you” was very different than “want to see you.” Hopefully everything was okay. He hadn’t laid eyes on her all day. At noon, he left for a celebratory lunch with Chance and Michael Anderson, and when he returned, she’d left for the day. He’d assumed it was to go meet Aldo.

  He’d told himself he was glad she wasn’t there and had even half convinced himself their friendship was a distraction. Now he realized that was all bullshit. He hadn’t gotten a damn thing done all day since he’d decided to back off a bit.

  It was only six o’clock. There were three, maybe four good work hours left in the day. His routine before Jane had been to swing by Alastair’s bar on the way home from work on Wednesdays and Fridays.

  Since befriending Jane, he’d skipped the bar and worked more on Wednesdays to free up Fridays for movie night. In fact, he’d been working harder than ever to ensure he’d have free time on Fridays. She hadn’t been a distraction at all. She’d been incentive.

  He picked up his phone. “Where?”

  “My place whenever it’s convenient.”

  Well, at least he knew it wasn’t some kind of emergency. He’d clearly read too much into her first message—or maybe he’d applied his own feelings to it.

  Need.

  Earlier today, he’d decided it would be better to ignore his feelings for her. Shut the door like he always did on fun and distraction. Problem was, he didn’t just want Jane Dixon, he needed her. Maybe it was time to fling that door open for once.

  The Smith Steel merger could wait, because Eric couldn’t anymore.

  …

  Jane opened the door a little too quickly. She should have counted to ten or something. Eric didn’t seem to notice, though. He said his usual “hey” and waited for her to invite him in before heading straight to Gandalf’s tower. The cat had taken a bizarre liking to Eric and would pester them non-stop if he didn’t receive an appropriate greeting.

  “So, no date tonight,” Eric said, rubbing the cat’s head.

  “Yeah. I just wasn’t feeling it.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “There’s still some beer left from the six pack you brought last time,” she said, heading to the kitchen. She pulled out two bottles from the fridge and grabbed the bowl of popcorn she’d made earlier.

  Their Friday night routine was her favorite thing. He’d greet Gandalf, she’d grab the beer and pick a movie, the cat would snuggle in between them, then she’d spend two hours fighting the urge to keep her hands off of Eric Blackwell.

  Tonight felt different. Off. The whole day had been a mess.

  “Why did you cancel on me tonight?” She’d planned to work that topic in later, when they had settled in a bit. Her impulse control was at a zero tonight.

  “Why did you cancel on Aldo?” His return question was immediate and direct. She’d no doubt he was a fabulous litigator.

  Rather than screw everything up before they even began this discussion, she forced what she hoped was a natural smile and headed to the sofa. “You’re still in your suit,” she said, hoping her disappointment wasn’t too obvious. She saw men in suits all day long. Besides, she loved the way he looked in casual clothes. Especially when he wore tight T-shirts that showed off all those CrossFit-honed muscles.

  “I came straight from the office.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a chair in the corner. “Come on, Gandalf.” He sat and patted the space between them on the sofa and the cat leaped up, purring in high gear.

  In keeping with their routine, she picked up the remote and turned on the TV, settling right away on an old thriller with Jimmy Stewart. She’d seen it before, but couldn’t remember the name.

  “You’re going to get cat hair on your suit,” she said as Gandy draped his front half over Eric’s thigh.

  “Occupational hazard.”

  “What occupation is that?”

  “Uh. Professional cat petter, I guess.” He grinned.

  “Professional cat petter beats being a lawyer.”

  He shook his head, still stroking Gandy. “Nope. Nothing beats being a lawyer.”

  Man, he was lucky to love his job. She always thought she’d warm up to it, but never had. On the TV, a man in a full-leg cast watched his neighbor from his wheelchair, using a camera with a huge lens.

  She grabbed a handful of popcorn and chewed a few pieces, not tasting it, then muted the TV and swiveled to face him. “I really need to know why you cancelled on me tonight.”

  His expression remained completely neutral. “Because I had lots of work to do.”

  “You already pushed the Anderson deal through.”

  “And now there’s the Smith Steel merger.”

  Part of her was hugely relieved. She’d had a suspicion he was sick of her. That whatever it was that caused every man to send Dear Jane texts had finally hit him. The other part was disappointed movie night wasn’t as special to him as it was to her and he’d ditch it for work.

  The gorgeous blonde woman in the movie unpacked a tiny suitcase containing only a frilly nighty and bedroom slippers, making a big show of it for the man in the wheelchair. She wondered if Eric would find work as interesting if she pulled something like that out during their lunch in his office.

  With her luck, probably.

  He reached for his beer. “So, why did you cancel your date with Aldo?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Objection.” He lifted the cat’s face by the chin. “Judge Gandalf, the witness is being uncooperative.”

  “Objection overruled. The witness is answering to the best of her ability.” Which was a straight-up lie. She’d cancelled because she was sick of kidding herself. The only good thing in her life right now was Eric, and he’d cancelled on her. What was the purpose of a pointless date without the debriefing from Eric afterward?

  “Perjury carries a huge penalty. Sometimes even a jail sentence.” His expression was tender. “Why did you cancel, Jane?” He covered the cat’s ears and whispered, “Off the record.”

  “I…” Well, shit. What could she say without letting on she’d fallen for him? That every time a date fell through, she was relieved because she’d be seeing him that much sooner. That if he weren’t a lawyer, she’d have jumped him weeks ago—hopefully without knocking anything over or setting a table on fire.

  He leaned close enough for her to smell starch and aftershave. “Is it because you’re afraid of failure? This first-date-only losing streak you have goin
g is bound to break soon.”

  “It’s not that.” Her heart hammered in her throat at his nearness and her whole body heated. All she had to do was turn her head and their lips would meet.

  “What is it, then?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and his breath fanned across her neck, causing her lower body to tighten.

  She heard Kim Zimmerman’s voice in her head. “Act from your heart.”

  And just like that, she summoned the courage to do what she’d wanted to do since she met him. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pressed her mouth to his. Lightly. Tentatively.

  He didn’t kiss her back, but he didn’t pull away or freak out, either, so she traced his lips with her tongue, willing him to kiss her back.

  And that did the trick because, man, oh, man, did he kiss her back. With a groan, he twined his fingers through the hair at the base of her skull and tilted her head, then took her mouth, his tongue sliding along hers, tasting, testing, making her light-headed. This man drove her crazy, and she wanted more of him. She ran her hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he made a gratified sound, deep in this throat, fingers tightening in her hair as he kissed her with so much intensity and passion, it left her dizzy and gasping for breath.

  “Shit, Jane,” he said with a smile, gasping for air himself.

  Between them, Gandy grumbled.

  “Sorry, Judge.” He nudged Gandy off the couch. “Court adjourned. No need for further litigation. I think both parties have reached a satisfactory agreement.” The cat jumped up into his box with a parting glare.

  “Watch it,” she teased, “or Judge Gandy might slap you with a Disorderly Conduct charge.”

  “You can count on it, counselor,” he said, loosening his tie. “Disorderly…” He pulled her into his lap sideways, placing her over the hard bulge in his pants. “Reckless…” His lips met hers again, and she moaned as their tongues tangled and his hands roamed up and down her back. “But completely justifiable.” He tugged the bottom of her T-shirt free from her jeans. “Because Jane Dixon…” Off went the shirt over her head. He stilled for a moment, taking her in from her navel to her purple lace bra to her face. “Because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and no jury in the world would convict me for wanting to kiss you.” He delivered another breath-stealing kiss. “Or touch you.” He trailed the fingers of one hand up her belly, causing a riot of sensation that made her squirm in his lap. He brushed along the undersides of her breasts, then traced the lace pattern of her bra, circling one nipple, then the other. “Or taste you.”