My Guilty Pleasure Page 5

  The sprinkling of snow dusting the sidewalks swirled around Joey’s feet as she made her way to the office a few blocks away. The early morning snowfall was only a precursor to the Nor’easter headed their way. She suspected that by the end of the day traffic out of the city would be nothing short of a nightmare. Another reason she should seriously consider moving out of the carriage house and finding her own place in the city.

  Her cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket to check the display before answering. “Good morning, Katie,” she said to her younger sister.

  “Well, how did it go?” Katie asked.

  “Better than I’d hoped. My client is being released back to the halfway house later today. Since she’d only been busted with a handful of prescription pain relievers, the ADA wasn’t interested in revoking her probation.”

  Katie’s impatient sigh was audible. “I meant with Sebastian.”

  Joey stopped for a red light. She knew exactly what her sister had meant. She let out her own sigh. “Brooke told you.”

  “Everything,” Katie said with a light chuckle. “You didn’t think you could keep something like screwing your boss a secret from me, did you?”

  “A girl can hope.” She was usually much better at keeping her indiscretions private—at least for a little while. She usually ended up confessing to her sisters anyway, but this time she’d been so rattled by her response to Sebastian, she’d spilled her guts to Brooke with very little prodding. Not that she regretted it. She’d needed someone to talk to, but she should’ve known her secret wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  Another gust of frigid wind blew through the streets of downtown Boston. Joey shivered and tugged her coat tighter around her. “There’s nothing to tell. Yet. I’m headed to the office now.”

  “Okay, call me later. I want all the juicy details.”

  “There will be no details, juicy or otherwise.”

  “Excuse me, but do I have the wrong number? This is Joey, right?”

  The light turned green and she stepped off the curb. “I’m hanging up now.”

  Katie laughed. “Hey, don’t forget about Thursday.”

  “What’s Thursday?”

  “We’re going to Chassy, remember? It’s your turn, sister dear.”

  Joey frowned. A twinge of dread formed in her stomach. “My turn for what?”

  Katie let out another impatient sigh. “You’re getting your dare this week. Remember?”

  That twinge formed into the equivalent of a lead ball, filling her with a sinking feeling. Dare? Oh, no. Not now. She had enough on her plate to worry about without having to fulfill some silly dare. Usually she wouldn’t hesitate to become a participant, but she’d much rather maintain the status quo and continue as an observer and supporter of the other more daring members of the exclusive women’s club.

  “I never agreed to that,” she argued.

  “Yes, you did. Well, sorta.”

  “I think I said when hell freezes over.”

  “Just your luck, the weatherman said that’ll be most of this week.” Laughter tinged Katie’s voice. “Anyway, it’s all set. Thursday night, seven o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”

  Before Joey could protest further, Katie hung up. With a curse, Joey flipped her phone closed and tucked it back inside her coat pocket. She’d been so focused on the stupid stunt she’d pulled by sleeping with Sebastian, she’d completely forgotten that she’d offhandedly agreed to officially join Martinis and Bikinis this month.

  The M&B meetings held monthly at Chassy, her half sister Lindsay’s bar in South Boston, were essentially a women’s empowerment and support group. The dares handed out by Lindsay, with a humorous dose of pomp and circumstance, ranged from mild to the more extreme. One member’s dare had been nothing more audacious than to put the moves on a sexy new neighbor she’d been lusting over. Brooke’s stripping dare last fall had definitely been one of the more extreme, an event which had ended up with a photo of her sister and David splashed across the front page of the local tattler. In Brooke’s defense, her sister hadn’t really meant to end up doing a topless dance at the strip club. Was it Brooke’s fault she didn’t realize that pasties required, well, paste to stay in place?

  The wind kicked up again, harder this time, sending a biting chill through Joey’s limbs. She came to a stop for another traffic light and shivered against the biting cold. When the light finally turned green, she rushed across the street, then picked up her pace the rest of the way to the office. Not that she was in a hurry to get there and face Sebastian, but the temperature had dropped a good fifteen degrees during her brief walk from the courthouse. Hell was indeed freezing over.

  Another of her not-so-brilliant ideas, she thought as she slipped inside the old brick building. Her toes were frozen and she was convinced the tip of her nose had turned blue. She hadn’t thawed a lick, either, by the time she reached Blood Alley.

  The firm operated on the top three floors of the twelve-story building. The Dungeon, as it was called—or rather the tenth floor—housed the word processing and accounting departments, along with an impressive law library that took up more than half of the floor. The partners, both junior and senior, were all top-floor execs in what was referred to as the Penthouse, even though it wasn’t officially a penthouse suite. The offices were simply gorgeous and worthy of being depicted in Architectural Digest, including the four beautifully appointed conference rooms where meetings with important clients and depositions were all

  held. Her floor, called Blood Alley, was in between the Dungeon and the Penthouse, and was where the real work of the firm was conducted.

  She stepped off the elevator and avoided the reception area by heading down the hall past the restroom and the door to the stairwell to the private entrance. With her card key in hand, she zipped it through the security device and slipped through the door.

  The area, usually buzzing with the sounds from the various support staff, was deserted with the exception of one of the building’s maintenance men. He paid her no attention and was busy using a wireless screwdriver on the door of the office next to hers, which was inhabited by Shelby Martin.

  She circled the empty support area and walked toward her office, which was situated between two larger corner offices. The first, belonging to Dillard Bowman, a senior associate and one of the firm’s most ambitious litigators, was empty. She peered over the four-foot, mahogany-capped divider to her secretary’s desk. Mary had left a file open on her desk and her computer’s tropical-fish screen saver showed an array of brilliantly colored fish swimming across the monitor. Since it was only a few minutes after ten, she assumed everyone was in a meeting—one probably called to introduce Sebastian to the litigation division. One to which she was painfully late and no doubt noticeably absent.

  Tough, she thought rebelliously. The firm encouraged their associates to partake in pro bono work. The women at the halfway house were important to her, and keeping Ginny Karnes out of jail had been a priority.

  Still curious about what the maintenance guy was doing to Shelby’s door, she stopped to take a look before entering her small office. She stared, stunned, as he slipped a fresh nameplate into the holder he’d just hung on the door. Her stomach bottomed out. Instead of Shelby Martin, who was one of the more senior litigation associates, the nameplate read Sebastian Stanhope.

  Joey stared in disbelief. What was he doing here? Not just on her floor, but right next to her office? Working with Sebastian would be difficult enough, but she hadn’t expected to be working right next to the man.

  Her briefcase slipped from her fingers and landed at her feet with a thud. The maintenance guy—Bill, according to the name tag sewn on his blue shirt—turned to look at her. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Surely there’s some mistake,” she said, inclining her head toward the gold nameplate. “The partners’ offices are on the top floor.”

  Brian Penfield, who ran the bad faith division, wouldn’t dream of having
his office anywhere near the unwashed masses. Neither would Elizabeth Colton, the stern head of probate and estate planning. For that matter, she was dead positive she’d never even seen Montgomery Kettle, who oversaw the family law division, anywhere near his associates’ offices. Wilson Hemmer, one of three partners who headed up the huge corporate-law department, made regular appearances on her floor, as did one of Wilson’s counterparts, Illona Goodwin. They’d both been promoted out of the rank and file. Illona had once confided to her after two glasses of wine over dinner that she still felt more comfortable with her “peeps” than on the hallowed ground of the Penthouse.

  “This your office?” Bill asked.

  Joey shook her head and attempted to summon a smile, but was positive she’d only managed a grimace. “No. Never mind. Sorry to bother you.”

  She stooped to pick up her briefcase, then entered her small office and closed the door. Why the hell was Sebastian’s office on her floor? Not just on her floor, but right next to her? It just wasn’t heard of at Samuel, Cyrus and Kane for a partner to have his office on Blood Alley.

  She dropped her briefcase on the deep mauve guest chair, then fished her cell phone out of her pocket before hanging her coat on the hook on the back of the door. She thought about calling Brooke, but quickly changed her mind. What would she say, other than whine about the rotten turn of luck she seemed to be having lately? First guy she meets in months that turns her on and he’s her new boss. She screws him anyway and now his office is next to hers?

  She unwound her Burberry scarf from her neck and slipped it over the hook with her coat, then opened her door. If she kept it closed, would he take the hint and ignore her? For some reason, she seriously doubted it. Closed off wasn’t exactly the impression she wanted to give. Besides, if she started closing her door now, wouldn’t people wonder about the change? They might even speculate that she resented Sebastian’s presence. Well, she did, but not in the way they might construe.

  She’d thought about the situation with Sebastian long and hard over the weekend and had decided her best defense would be to play it cool. If she kept a low profile and did what she did best—her job—then no one would ever suspect her of diddling the new guy.

  But where had they moved Shelby? And why was Sebastian here? She wanted to stomp her foot and whine at the unfairness. She liked having Shelby next door to her. They weren’t only work friends, but Shelby Martin had a superb legal mind. Joey enjoyed bouncing ideas around and discussing the latest precedents with her. They’d even graduated from the same law school, although Shelby had graduated eight years before Joey.

  She shrugged out of her blazer and carefully folded it over the back of the guest chair, then approached her desk where she found a yellow sticky note posted to the closed lid of her laptop. West wing. ASAP, the note said and was signed M with a little smiley face. Meaning she was supposed to report to the west conference room upstairs.

  She pulled the note from the laptop and tossed it in the trash can under her desk. Might as well get it over with, she thought, as she opened the center drawer and fumbled around for the lipstick she kept there. After applying a little color to her lips, she quickly ran a comb through her wind-tossed hair, straightened her long, red plaid wool skirt and grabbed a fresh legal pad and her favorite pen before leaving her office.

  She might as well be facing a firing squad what with the way her insides were jumping. Heaven help her, silly as it was, that’s exactly how she felt by the time she reached the Penthouse.

  What was her problem? No one knew she’d slept with Sebastian. It wasn’t as if she had a scarlet letter sewn to her black silk blouse.

  “Good morning, Miss Winfield,” the secretary seated behind an elaborately carved mahogany desk said when Joey approached. “They’re in the conference room nearest Mr. Kane’s office.”

  “Thank you, Sonja.” Joey walked through the waiting room, then headed to the appropriate conference room.

  The massive double doors at the end of the western corridor stood open. As she neared, Sebastian’s deep, velvety voice washed over her. Addressing the troops, she thought, as she struggled to ignore the delightful little tingle that passed along her skin.

  Okay, she thought, slip in quietly and disappear into the crowd. Draw no attention to yourself.

  She stopped just outside the door. Sebastian paced a length of gray carpeting directly inside, gesturing in front of everyone seated at the conference table. For courage, she sucked in a deep fortifying breath.

  Stepping forward, she wobbled on her heels, then tripped, crashing into the room with all the elegance of an elephant bursting through a china closet.

  * * *

  “Are you all right?” Sebastian asked, helping Joey to her feet. She’d slammed right into him, making a most interesting entrance into the meeting he’d been about to close.

  She swept her hands down her skirt, then rubbed at her elbow. “Yes, fine. Thank you.” She glanced up at him, a pleading look lighting her gaze. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Good one, Winfield,” Dillard Bowman said, causing a few chuckles to circulate around the conference room.

  “Just wait until you see what I do for an encore,” she quipped.

  Damn if she didn’t look absolutely adorable, and rattled. “We were just about finished,” Sebastian said.

  “Would you excuse me, please? I’m late for my class at the local charm school.”

  More laughter erupted. Sebastian couldn’t help himself, he smiled at her. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise to send a note to your teacher explaining why you’re late.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she murmured, as she stooped to retrieve a yellow legal pad. She walked to the back of the table and took the only vacant chair.

  Sebastian waited until Joey was seated before resuming the meeting. “I’d like to meet with the associates over the next two days to discuss your individual case loads. Laura will be in touch to coordinate meeting times. For now, paralegal and secretarial assignments will remain unchanged. Any questions?”

  When none were forthcoming, he added, “That’s all for now. Thank you for coming.”

  He glanced over at Joey, who stood and moved toward the exit. “Joey, would you mind remaining so we can get started now?”

  She looked at him sharply. He recognized a deer-in-the-headlights look when he saw one. “I don’t have anything prepared.” An edge of panic laced her voice.

  Her secretary—Mary, he believed her name was—appeared at Joey’s side and slipped her a copy of the case list he’d asked all the secretaries to prepare first thing upon his arrival this morning. He’d wanted to hit the ground running, and the best way to do that was to be briefed on all the open litigation files within his department.

  Joey glanced longingly at the exit as she spoke in a hushed tone to her secretary, who jotted notes on a steno pad. Mary said something in return, then left the conference room.

  The room slowly emptied, with the exception of his own secretary, Laura. She was a thirtysomething single mom, if the lack of a wedding ring and the framed photos of a pretty little girl with long brown curls on her desk were any indication. “Do you need me to stay?” Laura asked him.

  He looked in Joey’s direction. “Coffee?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “That’ll be all for now,” he told Laura. “Thanks.”

  She offered him a brief smile, then gathered her steno pad and waited for the last few stragglers to depart. “If you need anything, my extension is 427,” she said, then left, closing the double doors to the conference room behind her.

  Joey smoothed her hands down her skirt again and cleared her throat. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. “My heel must’ve caught in the floor door lock.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, motioning for her to sit. He stilled the provocative and completely inappropriate response hovering on the tip of his tongue—the one about enjoying any excuse to touch her agai
n—and joined her at the far end of the conference table.

  “I was wondering if you were going to show up,” he said. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

  She made a sound that resembled a laugh, but wouldn’t look at him. “I had an appearance this morning.”

  “Mary mentioned it was a pro bono matter.”

  “Yes.” She looked at him then, a hard glint entering her gaze. “The senior partners encourage it.”

  “Joey, I didn’t—”

  “It’s Josephine,” she said stiffly. “Or Jo.” She glanced pointedly at the list of cases in front of her. “Shall we get started?”

  He shook off the sharp stab of disappointment. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly. At the office, he knew business only was the best possible choice. They did both have careers to think about. Besides, he hadn’t come this far to throw away everything he’d worked for because he couldn’t stop thinking about a nice ass and a great pair of tits.

  But after hours?

  We’ll see. See what? If her reserved attitude now was any indication, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing a whole lot of Joey. Despite the risks to both of their careers, nothing just wasn’t an option he was interested in entertaining.

  Chapter 6

  He’d called her Joey. In front of nearly everyone in the litigation division, too. She’d noticed more than a few curious glances tossed her way at the use of her family nickname. No one at work ever called her Joey. Only her closest friends called her that. Or her family, but with both of her parents now gone, other than her sisters most of them called her Josephine. It was the Winfield way.

  “You don’t look like a Josephine,” he said.

  The way he looked at her, with a way-too-sexy smile and a softening of his gaze as he casually traveled the length of her, was so not office appropriate. Neither were her tingling breasts for that matter.

  “It’s a family name. I was named after my father’s aunt.” Something her great aunt probably despised since they were nothing alike whatsoever. To Aunt Josephine, appearances were everything, whereas Joey could give a rip what people thought—most of the time. But this was work, and she didn’t want people getting the wrong impression of her relationship with Sebastian. Not that they had a relationship, she reminded herself sternly. A mind-blowing, best-sex-she’d-had-in-forever one-night stand did not constitute a relationship.