Page 28 of Take the Bait

“Sorry, no. I presented it to my client yesterday and he turned it down. And before you throw a hissy fit, I spoke with him again this morning to try to talk him out of his decision. He’s absolutely sure of what he’s doing and categorically refuses to take a deal. I’ll send along an email to that effect for your files as soon as I get back to my office.”

“In the first place, I don’t throw hissy fits. In the second place, has your client lost his mind?”

She sighed, unwilling to debate Cam on the state of her client’s mind. It was an argument she would lose. Aloud, she said, “Mr. Koronov continues to insist that the case proceed to trial.”

She left out the part where Alex had told her to tank the case. Cam was already confident enough without knowing she was under orders to intentionally hand him a win against her.

She added, “There is something I’d like to talk with you about, though. Not related to the Koronov case. Well, not directly, at any rate. Is there a time we could get together?” She added reluctantly, “I’d prefer not to discuss it in either of our offices.”

That got her a long silence from the other end of the line.

“You busy after work today?” he asked evenly enough. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have jumped to the conclusion that she was attempting to proposition him.

“Uhh, no. I guess not.”

“Perfect. Ma Foulle. Seven o’clock. I’ll take care of the reservation.”

She blinked, startled. Ma Foulle was one of the hottest restaurants in the city. Reservations were impossible to get. And Captain Ego thought he could snap his fingers and pull off a reservation?

This she had to see. Rather, she had to see the egg on his face at seven o’clock tonight when they had to walk down the street and grab a hot dog from a street vendor, instead.

“Okay, sure. I’ll see you there,” she replied.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said warmly enough to make her toes curl into knots of delight.

She ended the call and stared at the oak tree in shock.

Holy cow. She was having dinner with Cam Townsend.

Her gaze narrowed. Leon Whitney would be so proud of her. She should probably make a production of telling a bunch of people around the office about it this afternoon so word would get back to Raspy Voice that she was being a good little tramp.

Indeed, when she got back to the office, she gushed to the most gossipy legal secretary she knew about how excited she was to have dinner with the hot ADA she’d bumped into at the cocktail party a few nights ago. For good measure, she also dithered to another notoriously talkative paralegal about what to wear to a fancy French restaurant like Ma Foulle.

There. That should do it.

She spent a most of the afternoon in a divorce negotiation between a long-time WMP client and his fifth wife. Thankfully, whoever’d written the pre-nup had crossed all the T’s and dotted all the I’s and there was very little room for the soon to be ex-Mrs. Worthington to squeeze more alimony out of Mr. Worthington.

By the time she got out of there, the whole secretarial pool was abuzz over her date tonight with Cameron Townsend at Ma Foulle. Yep. Raspy Voice was bound to hear about it soon.

He would be so pleased she was leaning into her role of corporate slut.

Which gave her an idea. She ducked out of work a bit early and headed a few blocks over to a high-end department store. She’d had precious little extra cash when she graduated law school to spend on clothing, and every penny had gone to buying conservative suits appropriate to courtrooms, all of which were decidedly not slutty.

She had some shopping to do. And it was going on her corporate expense account, by God. She would love to see how the firm’s accountant justified a naughty lingerie purchase as a business expense when she turned in the voucher.

The lingerie expedition expanded into a sexy little black dress, sheer silk hose, tall fuck-me heels—with a matching purse, of course—and a collection of the skankiest bras and thongs the department store had to offer.

It was stunning how entirely satisfying revenge shopping could be. No wonder wives did it when they caught their husbands cheating on them!

By the time her spree ended, she didn’t have time to run back to her loft to change and make it back downtown to Ma Foulle by seven. Not to mention the sky looked threatening and cabs were at a premium with rain an imminent possibility.

No way was she attempting to walk the half-dozen blocks from the store to Ma Foulle in those heels. If she managed not to break her ankle, which was a big if, she would have painful blisters all over her feet well before she got there.

Not to mention there was no way she was going to walk down any New York street in that sexy, skimpy dress without a coat to cover it. She had no desire to fight off the propositions and rude comments that would fly at her.

Besides, how was he going to get a table for them on less than one day’s notice when the waiting list to get in measured in months?

But when she stepped into the elegant space and asked the maitre d’ if there was a reservation for two in the name of Townsend for seven o’clock, the guy didn’t even have to look down at the list on his podium before saying, “Of course. Mr. Townsend is a very special friend of the restaurant. Shall I seat you now, Miss Wellford?”

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