Page 110 of Perfect Fit
He gestured to the open door in the corner. “Bathroom’s there. Towels for the shower are in one of the drawers. Take your time,” he said and padded toward the small kitchen not far away in this small apartment. Nude. Clearly, he was a man comfortable in his own skin.
She shook her head, pushing away all thoughts unconnected to the rush to shower, dress, and leave. Any emotions or lingering feelings could wait until she was alone. At which point she’d do her customary internal summarizing of events and tuck this episode away in her memory banks for safekeeping, never to be revisited again—except on long, lonely nights when it was just her and her vibrator. Because everything inside her knew, despite his brush-off and surly attitude this morning, Cole had set the bar way too high for any man who came after him.
And Erin had already set it pretty damned high on her own.
***
Three months later...
If this casedidn’t end soon, Erin would either pass out on the desk in front of the judge, the jury, and the entire courtroom, or she’d throw up on her brand-new shoes. It was a toss-up about which would happen first. Judge White, whose hair matched his name, droned on with jury instructions, while for Erin, the next twenty minutes passed in a blur of nausea and exhaustion. Finally, she heard the blessed sound of the gavel adjourning them for the day, and she dropped her head to the table with a thud.
“Don’t worry, I took notes on everything the judge said, and there wasn’t anything we didn’t anticipate, or I’d have objected,” Trina Lewis, Erin’s second chair for this trial, assured her.
“Thanks,” Erin mumbled into the desk.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Bathroom before we go home?”
Erin forced her head up. “Yeah. Please.”
Trina had already gathered Erin’s things and put them into her bag, and together, they walked out of the courtroom. To her relief, most everyone had already left, so she didn’t need to deal with people.
“Erin, umm, can I talk to you?” Trina asked as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and they stepped inside.
“Of course.”
Trina had been working in the DA’s office for the past two years. She was close to Erin’s age, and as the only two female lawyers, she and Erin had become friends. There was no professional jealousy between them—Trina was Erin’s escape from the male posturing when she needed one and vice versa. Along with Macy Donovan, she made up the threesome for their nights at Joe’s, trips to the movies, and girls’ nights at home, which had also included Alexa Collins prior to the other woman’s move to Texas.
Before speaking, Trina checked underneath the stall doors to make sure they were empty. Ever since Lyle Gordon, the lazy bastard who just happened to be the defense attorney on their current case, had posted his paralegal in here to overhear anything that could help him win, Erin and Trina were extra careful about where they spoke and in front of whom.
“All clear,” Trina said.
“What’s up?” Erin turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.
“Don’t you think this is the longest stomach virus in the history of the world?” Trina ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to Erin.
“It’s getting better,” Erin lied.
“No, it’s not. You’ve been sick for weeks.”
Erin didn’t argue. She’d run the gamut, from thinking she had food poisoning, to the flu, to a long-lasting virus.
“You’ve missed more mornings of work and left early more times than in all the years I’ve known you.”
Erin shot Trina a wry glance. “That’s a whole two years.” But she got the point. Even her boss, Evan Carmichael, had begun to question her absences and illness with concern, and Evan rarely noticed anything... except Evan.
“Anyway, while you were sipping tea in the hallway during lunch, I ran out to the pharmacy and bought you this.” Trina held out a brown paper bag.
Erin narrowed her gaze, cautiously accepting the bag. “What’s in it?” She didn’t wait for Trina to answer, peeking instead. “A pregnancy test?” Erin shrieked before slapping her hand over her own mouth.
True, she hadn’t had her period, but she’d attributed the lack thereof to work-related stress. Not once had she connected her illness to being pregnant.
“Hey, it’s possible,” Trina said.
“Are you kidding me? We’ve been working twenty-four seven for I don’t know how long. I can’t remember the last time I used my battery-operated friend, never mind had a real man.”
“Liar,” Trina said for the second time.
Erin scowled at her friend. They both knew she remembered the exact last time she’d had sex, and Erin recalled every perfect, muscular inch of Cole Sanders and their night together.