“See you at the shower tomorrow night, Libby.” Then Blair hung up before her friend could say another word. The little part of her that had jumped in excitement at Libby’s words scared her. It needed to be reined in. Stat.
Blair flopped down in a stiff chair in her living room, then scooted around trying to get comfortable. Why didn’t she have any overstuffed chairs to sink into? Maybe because she never lay around, relaxing. She heaved out of the chair, wondering what was wrong with her all of a sudden. Why was she so unsettled lately? She could blame part of it on Garrett, but she’d been questioning this marriage before he walked into the bar last night. She reminded herself that this was normal. Sane, reasonable people examined life decisions before jumping into them. That was what this was. She was just being cautious.
But she had to admit even to herself that Neil’s mother was almost enough to make her take off running. The woman seemed to get worse every time she met her. The only reason Blair had lasted past their first meeting was Neil’s insistence that he was nothing like his parents and found his mother’s small-minded attitude embarrassing. Thankfully, she’d only needed to deal with her future in-laws on a small scattering of occasions in the two years she and Neil had been together. As long as she could keep future contact to a minimum, she could handle it. All the more reason to seriously consider not having kids.
Blair grabbed her laptop and set it on her dining room table that was covered with papers and files. This was the real reason she didn’t sit around in overstuffed chairs. There was always too much work to do. While she might not be working at Sisco, Sisco and Reece after this week, Rowena Norfolk was counting on her to prove her soon-to-be ex was a lying, thieving, cheating bastard.
She pulled out files for the two depositions scheduled for the next day. They were deposing another mistress in the morning—a more important witness than the first, which meant Blair had to be prepared. Rowena was certain her husband had promised to divorce her and marry the mistress . . . and then reneged on that promise to be with mistress number three. Apparently, Mr. Norfolk had been a busy man. Blair was fairly certain mistress number two, Amanda Beasley, was privy to Brian Norfolk’s master plan to bilk his wife out of a shitload of money. She was certain he had more money than he’d disclosed in discovery, and Blair was hoping Ms. Beasley would have some knowledge of where all that loot was hidden. It helped that Amanda Beasley was just one more scorned lover. Hopefully, she’d walk in seeking revenge.
But the pièce-de-resistance was Brian Norfolk’s own deposition. Blair was hoping he’d take his oath to tell the truth to heart. But scum like him rarely did. She wasn’t worried. She’d get him in the end. She always did. He’d thought it was so smart of him to move away to California before filing for divorce, but his fancy San Diego law firm wouldn’t save him from her.
It helped knowing that Garrett was his counsel. She had to admit that she’d loved serving him his ass earlier today. But he’d fared a hell of a lot better than his colleague. In fact, he’d fared a lot better than most attorneys she’d gone up against. If he was telling the truth and the case had only been transferred to him the previous day, she had to grudgingly admit she was impressed . . . and remind herself that he’d probably prepare more for the coming depositions, especially now that he knew she was opposing counsel.
She had no reason to doubt his truthfulness. He may have broken up with her, then played the field multiple times over, but he’d never lied. If anything, she had to applaud the fact that he’d owned what—and whom—he’d done. Which made her feelings for him even more pathetic, especially the way her heart had taken off like an Olympic sprinter when he gave her that look in the car ride home—that familiar look that said he was hungry and she was a filet mignon dinner.
Her body betrayed her mind when she was with him, and she found herself longing for more than the vanilla, missionary-style sex she and Neil had every Saturday night. But chemistry had never been an issue with Garrett, so it should come as no surprise she still felt this way. It was physiological. Which was a good thing. God help her if her heart got involved. She wasn’t sure she could survive him hurting her a second time.
Still, she couldn’t let him see she was affected by him, or he’d take full advantage of her weakness, both in the conference room and out. Yet she knew it was too late for that. She’d sat in his car, practically waiting for a goodnight kiss like a teenager coming home from a first date. Garrett wasn’t stupid, and he’d always been able to read her like a book. Based on his questions and observations tonight, it was pretty obvious he still could.
But something bothered her . . . she still couldn’t figure out why he’d been so adamant about taking her to lunch. And while it was obvious he’d like another roll in her sheets, he hadn’t made a move on her. Far from it—he’d claimed he just wanted her to be happy. Had he meant it? It seemed hard to believe after his attempt to claim the ring.
She stared down at the objection of contention—the gold band with a round center diamond and several smaller diamonds clustered on each side. She felt no emotional attachment to the ring. Now she wondered if that was a bad sign. Megan loved the family heirloom ring on her left hand only slightly less than she loved her new husband. But Blair reminded herself that she wasn’t like her closest friends. The two of them shared a romantic streak that she’d never possessed. The only person who had ever understood that about her was Garrett. Even Neil had found her lack of sentimentality strange in the beginning.