© Carey Decevito, 2016

Chapter 4

Sundays have always been my day to relax.  Women were never part of the agenda.  It's always been me, myself and I and sometimes the guys, if their women were willing to part ways with them for an afternoon or evening of football, or if their jobs didn't interfere.

Today was one of those days where it would be me and me alone.  I was glad.  After two back-to-back nights of frolicking about, I needed to get my head back in the game.  I didn't like that I was relying on the attention of women more often.  What was worse was that with the frequency of women came an increase in thoughts about Danica and my loneliness.

Like an oozing sore, the pestilent thoughts I had fallen asleep to came back upon waking.

I headed out for a run to clear my head, seeing as next to sex, it was my cure-all.  Waving to a few housewives on my block as I passed, I set the pace that would lead me into a good hour's worth of cardio.

I slowed from a jog to a walk and rounded the corner to the coffee shop by my home, when my hour was up.  A caffeine boost was needed next.

As always, the barista served me with a smile and a lack of flirtatious subtlety when she skimmed the tips of my fingers with hers while passing my cup of Java.

I headed out with a quick nod and made a beeline toward my posh abode.  I had managed to clear my head some but the minute I slowed my pace, the thoughts I had managed to ward off during my run were there waiting for me to deal with them all over again.

As I got to my front door, I forced those thoughts away.  I had better things to do, like a full day of football, rest and relaxation.  Too bad that went to hell in a hand basket by ten o'clock that night.

With my buddy Brent's call, last night, I walked into my office on Monday morning with a sense of unease.  Suffering with breast cancer, his wife had taken a turn for the worse and I'd been tasked to take over one of his cases.

Being ill-prepared by not having ample time to study the case didn't sit well with me.  I knew that it was a big one because Brent had said so.  If handled right, this case could put me up for partnership with the firm.

Seated in the conference room,early and waiting on the other party to arrive, I figured I'd pull out Brent's case notes andskim through themto make sure I knew as much as possible about what I was dealing with.

Bent over, fishing away in my briefcase for my notepad, I was greeted by a set of endless legs, tucked away in a navy pin-striped skirt.

As your typical virile man, my hormones took over and my eyes scanned from her four inch heels, up those bare stilts that disappeared beneath the aforementioned skirt.  It hugged a tight ass with hips that swayed as the woman walked toward the other end of the conference room table.  I felt a twitch down below.  Down boy.

It wasn't until I stood and looked over that I found myself looking into bright blue eyes that held me captive with their familiarity.

Tight-lipped, she said,"Mr. Landen."  Her expression was replaced by one of confusion.  "I was under the impression that we were meeting with Mr. Brent Townsend?"

What the fuck?  "Yes.  Well," I began as her counsel looked between her and me with curiosity, "Mr. Townsend has asked that I handle his caseload seeing as he's been pulled away for a personal emergency, Miss..."

"Actually, Mr. Landen, it's Mrs. Spalding... for now," she said.  "Shall we get down to business?"

It was safe to say that I felt like a complete idiot during our meeting.  Combine my lack of preparedness with the old memories of our past and I can guarantee you my focus was far from sound.  This case had just gotten more complicated.

By the time our hour was up, I couldn't high-tail it out of there fast enough.  Making a beeline for my office, I told my assistant to hold my calls and turn away any visitors.

She's back.  Damn.

Wasn't there a rule that protected people from having to deal with personal and business mixing together?  I guess not.  Then again, it's not like Brent or my employer were aware of my personal history.  Fate sure knew how to be mean.

I sat at my desk, intent to work on this afternoon's paperwork needed for other clients,but I wasn't able to make much sense of anything.

Giving up on regaining my focus, I let out a loud breath, ran my fingers through my hair and made a decision.

I pushed the button.  "Sally?"

"Yes, sir?" I heard back from the intercom.

"I'm taking the afternoon off.  Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, I'll be working from home."

"What about your twelve thirty, sir?  We've already rescheduled him once."

"Call Stan and apologize.  He'll understand.  Reschedule and make a reservation at that new bistro that's just opened down the street," I said.  "I have it under good authority that Stan has a penchant for great French food."

"Right, sir."

"Thank you, Sally."

Stuffing the work I needed to tackle in my briefcase, I left the office, hoping for something — anything — thatwould divert my mind from its current thoughts.  If only I could get myself out of handling Brent's case but I knew it was too late since we were due in court on Wednesday.

I was stuck.

And I was far from happy about it.