Practice Makes Perfect (19 page)

Twenty-one

THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT set Payton’s meal down in front of her.

“And one vegetarian entree for you,” she said efficiently before turning to serve lunch to the passengers across the aisle.

Seated next to Payton, J.D. didn’t even bother to look up from his
Wall Street Journal
.

“Vegetarian? Now there’s a surprise.”

“About as surprising as you turning first to the financial section of the paper.”

J.D. shrugged. “So? I have a few investments.”

“I have investments. You have a
portfolio
,” Payton emphasized.

J.D. felt the need to set the record straight. He put down his paper and turned in his seat to face her.

“Payton, I have to tell you something, and I know this is going to come as a shock, but it’s better you hear it now.” He leaned in consolingly. “
You
have money.” He shook his head. What a shame.

Payton waved this off. “Please.
You
have money. I have a job that pays well. There’s a difference.”

“We make the same exact salary.”

“But you have an extravagant lifestyle.”

J.D. laughed at that. Did he now? Maybe in her eyes, he supposed. She was a walking contradiction and completely oblivious to that fact.

“
You
have five-hundred-dollar shoes,” he pointed out.

“Not anymore.”

J.D. cleared his throat. Probably best if they just moved on to another topic.

He watched as Payton picked at her sandwich, some sprouty/all-natural/no-taste concoction. Since they were flying business class, they had seats together, just the two of them. They could talk about anything and not be overheard, although so far Payton’s conversation with him throughout the flight had consisted entirely of business-related talk and/or sass. Perhaps it was time to shake things up.

“So . . . you didn’t say why you broke up with Chase.”

“You’re right, I didn’t say.”

“Are you avoiding the subject?”

Payton put her sandwich down and turned to face him. “Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”

Realizing he really needed to refine his subject-changing skills, J.D. struck a nonchalant look. “What about me?”

“Well, you’re thirty-two years old—”

“The same age as you.”

“—and still single,” she finished. “Aren’t you supposed to be married by now to a Muffy or a Bitsy or some other society type with a brain as big as this pickle?”

J.D. peered over. “That’s a pretty big pickle.”

Payton smiled. “So? What gives?”

J.D. couldn’t help but look as, while waiting for his answer, Payton crossed one high-heeled leg over the other, notably in his direction. Did she know the effect she had on him? He suspected she did. It was a little dance they did, the way they both conspicuously avoided talking about what had happened in her apartment the other night. He had a feeling that there was more behind her “innocent” questions regarding his love life than she wanted to let on. But he had no intention of cutting the game short. Not yet, anyway.

Seeing that she still waited for his answer, J.D. shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been focused on things at work.” He watched as Payton nodded. This she could understand.

Now that the subject of work had been raised, the conversation drifted onto a safer topic: their upcoming meeting with Jasper and his new general counsel. In appreciation of the fact that Payton and J.D. had agreed to fly down to Florida on such short notice, Jasper had suggested, for their convenience, that they meet for dinner at their hotel. J.D. could certainly think of worse places to spend a Friday evening than at the Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach. Putting aside all partnership/career advancement issues, one of the main reasons he had so quickly agreed to the trip was because he knew Payton similarly would never pass up the opportunity.

Payton asked him what information, if any, he had been able to uncover about the lawyer Jasper had hired to be Gibson’s new general counsel. J.D. reached into his briefcase for the file he had thrown together earlier that morning when he stopped at the office before heading off to the airport.

Strangely, he discovered something in his briefcase that he had not put there.

A book.

Confused—and with the momentary thought that he was going to be really fucking pissed if this was some sort of South Florida drug-mule scam that would land him in jail and cut into his posh Ritz-Carlton relaxation time—J.D. pulled out the book.

Pride and Prejudice
.

It bore a Post-it note, unsigned, that read:

In case of an emergency. Trust me.

J.D. rolled his eyes. Oh, for crying out loud. He had told Tyler about the trip with Payton and his “helpful” friend must have slipped the book into his carry-on when he’d stepped out of his office.

Just as he was about to stuff the silly girly tome back into his briefcase, Payton glanced over.

“Oh, you brought a book? What are you reading?” She leaned over, saw the title, then peered up at J.D. with an expression of unmistakable surprise. “
Pride and Prejudice
? Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that was your kind of book.”

J.D. immediately went on the defensive. “Come on, do you really think . . .” His words trailed off as Payton leaned back languidly in her seat with a dreamy, faraway look.

“Mr. Darcy . . .” She sighed wistfully. She distractedly put her pen in her mouth—J.D. noticed a little flush to her cheeks—and without even realizing it, she slowly slid the pen in and out between her lips.

In and out.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy and his ten thousand a year . . .” she said, still dreamy.

J.D. had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn’t help but stare. The pen. The
lips
. In and out.

In and out.

Tyler was a fucking genius.

With a blink, Payton came out of her reverie. Most unfortunately.

“Sorry. What were we talking about?” she asked, a little breathless.

Clearing his throat, J.D. held up the book. “
Pride and Prejudice
?”

Payton smiled fondly. “Yes. It’s one of my favorites.”

“I caught that. Gotta love that”—J.D. quickly stole a glance at the back cover—“Elizabeth Bennet.”

This seemed to wake Payton up. “Well, of course,” she said, not unlike Tyler, as if only a Neanderthal wouldn’t be in the know. “Elizabeth Bennet is only one of the greatest literary heroines of all time.”

J.D. could see she was beginning to get all riled up and lecture-y again. Not that he particularly minded. “Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. She’s clever, witty, bold, and independent. True, she can be a bit proud, some would say she’s far too sassy for her time, and she’s definitely judgmental, but still—that’s why we love her.”

J.D. cocked his head. “Well. I guess that settles that.”

Payton grinned, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I can get kind of carried away talking about that book.” She paused, remembering. “Weren’t you going to show me the information you pulled on Gibson’s new general counsel?”

Back to business. J.D. handed Payton the file he had compiled and she began to read through it. But after a few minutes of working in silence, she cast a sideways glance in his direction.

“Still . . . it is kind of a wussy read for a guy, Jameson.” With a sly half smile, she turned back to her reading.

J.D. didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. But after a few minutes had passed, he subtly glanced over and watched Payton as she worked.

Proud and sassy, no doubt. And definitely judgmental.

But still.

PAYTON STOOD IN front of the closet in her underwear, scrutinizing her dress for wrinkles. She was relieved to see it had survived the plane trip relatively unscathed because (a) she had absolutely zero skill when it came to using an iron and (b) there wasn’t time to iron anyway because she was supposed to meet J.D. in the hotel bar downstairs in five minutes.

This was business, she kept reminding herself. She and J.D. were here, at the luxurious Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach, just steps from the white-sand beach and the cerulean blue water of the Atlantic Ocean, on
business
.

She had stayed in nice hotels before, of course. Plenty of them. One of the perks of working for a top-tier firm was that its lawyers were expected to stay—for image purposes—at top-tier hotels when traveling. It also wasn’t the first time she’d traveled on business on a Friday evening, and it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d traveled with a male coworker.

But.

This time it didn’t feel like business. Or at least, it didn’t feel
entirely
like business.

After checking in at the front desk, she and J.D. had agreed to meet at seven, a half hour before their dinner with Jasper. This had been Payton’s suggestion—it would’ve been her suggestion had she been with any other associate and she saw no reason to deviate from protocol. Work was still work, Gibson’s Drug Stores were still the firm’s most important new client, and the fact that she just happened to be spending the evening with J.D. was irrelevant.

Similarly irrelevant was the fact that she had snuck in a quick bikini wax after learning that they would be taking this trip.

And one should by no means construe anything from the sexy black lace underwear she had slipped on just moments ago. Honestly. Her fitted dress practically
required
her to wear a thong and low-cut plunge bra in order to avoid tacky panty and bra lines. And the sexy lacy part? Pure happenstance.

And yes, true, she may or may not have used a bit of dark liner that evening for a smoky-eye look, perhaps she did spend an extra ten or twenty minutes on her hair, and it was even possible that a few dabs of perfume—Bulgari Au Thé Blanc, her personal favorite—had made their way to her skin, a little here, a little there. But she’d only gone through these efforts because she’d had extra time on her hands and didn’t see any reason to idly sit about in her hotel room. And that was her story and she was stick—

Shit!—she was late. Payton suddenly caught sight of the clock on the nightstand. She hurriedly slipped into her dress and slid on her heels. Because this was a
business
dinner, her dress was black and classic. But a dress nevertheless, and a slim-fitting one at that. She had decided earlier against wearing a suit—it was eighty-five and humid and she would be far too warm wearing a jacket.

And that was her story.

THE ELEVATOR REACHED the first floor and the doors opened. As Payton stepped out, she felt a momentary flutter of—excitement? Nervousness? She never knew what to expect from J.D.—at least not these days, anyway. Sure, they had flirted at times during the plane ride, but on the other hand, they’d talked a lot of business, too.

A question had been raised that night in her apartment, and Payton knew the time to answer that question was quickly drawing to a close. It was a simple question.

What did she want?

She cut through the hotel lobby and found the bar, called Stir, where she was supposed to meet J.D.
What did she want?
In court, she always trusted her instincts. Maybe she should apply the same philosophy here.

She walked into the bar and was surprised to see such a large crowd already gathered there. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, first the main bar, then the private tables, and found J.D. at neither. Then she spotted an outdoor terrace.

Payton headed outside and saw that the bar’s terrace overlooked the ocean. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light provided by the softly flickering candles that adorned the tables. Through the crowd, she finally spotted J.D. near the back, seated at a table along the balcony ledge. She smiled—of course he would have the best table in the place.

J.D. had his profile to her as he looked out at the ocean. She headed over and—taking advantage of the fact that he had not yet seen her—took her time enjoying the way he looked in his dark gray suit and crisp blue shirt. She watched the ease and sophistication of his movements, the self-assured way he held the rocks glass as he took a sip, the subtle brush of his sleeve as he checked his watch. He certainly had style in spades, no doubt about that, and he was undeniably, incredibly good-looking. It struck her then how funny it was that
this
was the man she’d worked across the hall from—and fought with—for the past eight years.

As if sensing her approach, J.D. looked over. When he saw Payton, he turned in his chair and watched as she walked toward him.

“You look amazing.” His eyes swept over her dress.

Payton stopped at the table and smiled. “Thanks. I figured it’s too hot for a suit.” Oh, the tangled web we weave.

J.D. watched her settle into the chair across from him. “You’re also late.” But his look suggested he didn’t really mind.

“I’m sorry; I know,” Payton said. She crossed one leg over the other so that the slit of her dress revealed a fair amount of her thigh. An old trick, but still a good one.

“Eager to get down to business?” she asked teasingly.

J.D. glanced down at her exposed leg, and when he looked up, his blue eyes bore right through her.

“There is some unfinished business I plan to get to tonight, yes.”

Wow. Payton literally felt her breath catch at the way J.D. looked at her right then, a look that told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he wanted. No other man had that effect on her; no one else could make her heart race with just one glance and a few simple words. And it was in that moment that she knew without any hesitation exactly what
she
wanted.

“I guess the question I have, J.D. . . .” She paused lingeringly as she reached across the table and took his hand. She began to trace soft, slow circles with her fingers. “. . . Is how are we ever going to get through this dinner?”

She saw the flash of desire in his eyes as he took her hand in his.

“As quickly as possible,” he said in a husky voice. He lightly brushed his lips against her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers, and Payton could tell that he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted him to. But Jasper could walk through the door at any minute, and frankly, if she was already getting all hot and bothered from a few smoky gazes, she’d best keep J.D.’s hands, lips, and all his other parts as far away from her as possible until the business portion of the evening’s festivities had officially concluded.