raised her coffee mug in salute. “Anticipation is the key to victory,” they both quoted and then giggled at each other. It was Gary Stone’s favorite, and annoyingly overused, saying.
Jackie eyed Marilyn in her trademark St. John’s knit ensemble, flesh-toned pantyhose, and stiletto heels. Fifty years ago, seventeen-year old Marilyn Morris had begun work as the secretary for fledgling attorney John Fenton. When Gary Stone became a name partner at the firm and took over the leadership reins from Fenton, Marilyn became Stone’s secretary. There, she loyally served until one week after Jackie resigned from the firm.
Marilyn had arrived unexpectedly the day Jackie opened her firm and announced she had retired from Fenton & Stone. She’d claimed to be looking for meaningful volunteer work. For the last year, she’d functioned as Jackie’s go-to person, never ceasing to amaze Jackie with her versatility.
Marilyn glanced at her watch and snapped her fingers in the air. “Dearest, you should be going. Take the folder with you.”
“Right. Thanks.” Jackie jammed the remaining half of the doughnut into her mouth, slurped down some coffee, and shoved the green folder into her briefcase.
The walk from her office to Fenton & Stone cleared Jackie’s head. The receptionist greeted Jackie with a hug over the desk she manned. “The deposition is in the Pratt conference room, Jackie. You remember where it is?”
Each conference room at Fenton & Stone bore the name of the major street it overlooked. She’d spent countless nights prepping for trials in the Pratt conference room. “Of course. It’s been long, but not that long, although it does seem like forever since I walked out these doors. Life as a solo is definitely different, but good. So how are things here?” Jackie gave her a warm smile, trying her best to sound relaxed even though perspiration threatened to erupt at every crease in her body.
The receptionist shrugged. “Same old BS. But it’s a paycheck, and a pretty good one, I guess. Let me know if you ever need a secretary, though.”
“You bet.” Jackie smiled as broadly as she could to hide the cringing of her gut. How could she afford an employee when she hadn’t paid herself in the last three months? Thank God Marilyn worked gratis. When this case finished, Jackie would give her a huge bonus.
The plush, dove-gray carpet sank underneath Jackie’s heels as she walked down the hallway. Hideous stains didn’t give the carpet a speckled-hen look like in her office. She had foregone tenant improvements in exchange for two months’ free rent. Lean and mean had become her mantra. Her step lightened. She realized she didn’t miss the opulence of these offices. It was time to have some fun and kick some expert ass.
The lights were on in the Pratt conference room. The windows framed a glorious view of the Inner Harbor, replete with moored sailboats and water taxis shuffling commuters across the harbor.
Oddly, the conference room was vacant. The court reporter should have been setting up. Jackie’s brows drew close as she scanned the room for any hint of what might be going on. She balled her fists so tight her fingernails dug into her palms. The cherry table gleamed like a polished mirror. The overhead lights reflected off it like stars on a black sea. An unblemished yellow legal pad lay precisely in the middle of one side of the table. Perpendicular to the legal pad’s lines, an ebony Mont Blanc fountain pen lay.
The last time she’s seen that pen was in Paris two years ago. Spread across ivory silk sheets, Jackie had luxuriated in Gary’s adoration. The nib of the Mont Blanc had moved across her skin. Word after word of poetry and proclamations of love had decorated her entire body.
Her nipples hardened against her bra at the provocative memory. The pen’s tip tracing her areolas had hardened her then too.
Damn him to hell and back.
The spicy scent of familiar French cologne invaded her