Page 12 of More Than Pen Pals

“Think about it. You wrote letters to each other forfouryears.And now you’ve found each other again after all this time. It’s so romantic.” She puts her hands over her heart. “Imagine telling this story to your grandkids someday.”

“Oh, yes, telling them about how Nana lied to Pop-Pop for four years will be a great family memory.”

“You were a kid. He’s a good man. He’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t know. And no matter what you say, I’m planning to avoid him, anyway.”

“You can’t.” Her eyes dance, which assures me I don’t want to hear what she’s going to say next. “He works with us.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “He does what, now?”

“He’s our legal counsel. The man is in our office more than his own.”

I’m floored. Doing legal work for a PR firm was nowhere in Ash’s grand plans for his future. Isn’t his dad a partner? Surely Ash can pick his clients. Has he changed that much in the years since I’ve known him? And why doesn’t Carter-Jenkins have in-house counsel, anyway?

“Cat got your tongue?” Wendy asks.

I shake myself and focus on my friend. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to deal with him?”

“More importantly, he’s going to have to deal with you.”

six

Ihave no idea how I’m going to deal with working with her. Well, I’m not positive I’ll ever need to work with her directly, but she’ll be around, being all alluring and deceptive, like a modern-day Delilah.

I’ve always hated that Bible story. While I’m not fond of Delilah, Samson grates on my nerves. How could such a strong man be deceived so easily? I groan when I realize I’m not much different than he was. At least I have the excuse of being a child at the time.

My phone beeps, and I press the intercom button. “What?” I bark and immediately regret my tone. “Sorry, Annette. I apologize for taking my mood out on you. What do you need?”

“I’ve got Wendy O’Halloran here for you.”

I hold back my sigh. “What does she want?”

“Only a moment of your time,” Wendy’s voice chirps out of my phone speaker. “Annette told me you don’t have any meetings this afternoon.”

Annette will be receiving a lecture on discretion before the day is out.

“I’m coming down,” Wendy informs me. “See you in five seconds!”

“Wait,” I say, while knowing it’s no use trying to stop her.

“Sorry, Mr. Hamilton,” Annette says. “She’s already …”

My office door swings open. The woman didn’t see fit to knock.

“What can I do for you, Miss O’Halloran?”

“What’s with the ‘Miss O’Halloran’? You never call me that.”

“What do you want,Wendy?”

“That’s better.” She perches on the chair across the desk from me and gives me an expectant look, as if I know exactly what she wants to hear.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I say as respectfully as I can under the circumstances. “What do you need?”

Her expression turns earnest. “For you to give Leslie a chance.”

My jaw clenches without my permission. “A chance for what?”

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