Grace dropped her phone back into her purse, and glanced into the hotel bar where Jack was waiting for her. Crap crap crap. She was up for partner this year, and if she got on the wrong side of Paul Glassman she could kiss her dreams of a future with this firm goodbye. She knew exactly what I'm confident you were the right person to send down there meant. It meant that if RKO's acquisition of Shell-Morr fell through because of this lawsuit, there was no chance she'd get the unanimous vote of the management committee. Without it, no partnership.

Paul Glassman believed in hard work, loyalty to the firm and client, and making profits. What he didn't believe in were second chances. The assignment to this case, which had looked initially like a perfect opportunity to impress the firm's management committee, was beginning to feel more and more like a train wreck.

She was regretting the impulse that had led her to invite Jack back to grab a late dinner at her hotel and discuss the deposition. I mean, really, could you even discuss a fiasco like that with a straight face? Right now she'd much rather just go back to her room, take an aspirin for the headache that was nagging increasingly behind her temple, and go to sleep. But since she couldn't think of any graceful way to get out of it – and a little food on her stomach might actually help her headache – she straightened her shoulders, put a smile on her face, and walked back into the bar.

"Something's bothering you."

Grace slid onto the bar stool next to him. "You read witnesses and jurors that easily?"

"Sometimes."

"I'll have to work on my poker face."

"Or you could just tell me what's the matter."

"One of the senior partners in mergers and acquisitions is getting anxious. He wants the deal closed, and this lawsuit is standing in the way."

"So he's not very happy with you at the moment."

She shrugged. "The mergers and acquisitions guys don't have a lot of patience for scheduling orders in federal court. They see it as a frivolous case, and they expect me to make it go away. The sooner the better."

Jack signaled to the bartender, then turned to Grace. "You want to move to a table?"

"No, this is fine. I'll have a glass of the house merlot," she told the bartender. "And can we see a menu?"

"Hungry?" Jack said.

"Well, considering we had lunch at 10:30."

He laughed.

"Did you really have to spend seven hours deposing her when we got back?"

"It would have been considerably shorter if Shelley hadn't demanded a break every 30 minutes. And if she could manage to even once answer a direct question the first time it was asked."

"Is this the kind of case you do all the time? Because I think I'd lose my mind."

"No, I'd say this one is pretty unique."

"Well, I guess I can see why Sherman insisted on the employment contract as part of the divorce settlement. Though why those two even want to work together is beyond me. And they've been sleeping together the entire time? They work together, have sex, apparently spend time at each others' homes . . . I'm not getting why they aren't still married.

"Honestly Jack, that deposition was starting to feel like some sort of mating ritual."

"If so, it's an unusual kind of foreplay."

He leaned close as he spoke, and she felt an unexpected shiver run through her body, and shifted in her seat. She could smell his cologne – or maybe it was aftershave, he probably didn't use cologne. But whatever it was, it made her think of sailboats and polished wood, and a salty breeze on a hot summer day. She felt heady, and reminded herself for the second time since she'd met him that it wasn't smart to drink on an empty stomach.

Suddenly the hotel lounge seemed too intimate, and she was conscious of how close her legs were to his, of the low murmurs of conversation from a few couples at the scattered tables, and a woman in a low cut dress at the end of the bar flirting a little too loudly with a man in a flowered tourist shirt.

She could picture herself walking out of the bar with Jack, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the elevator. When they got to the room, he'd slide the zipper down the back of her skirt, unbutton her blouse and let the silk fabric slip back over her shoulders. She'd tug the polo shirt out of the waistband of his pants, move her hands over smooth muscles . . .

Grace put the menu down abruptly.

He seemed to be looking at her intently. "Trying to decide what you want?"

If only it were that easy. But she kept that thought to herself.

"Hmm. I'll settle for the seared tuna sandwich with sweet potato fries."

"Good choice," Jack said, and nodded to the bartender. "Make that two."

"And can you give me a glass of water?" Grace decided that, all things considered, she would be better off slowing down on the wine, at least until the sweet potato fries had a chance to get to work on her metabolism. In the meantime she'd do her best to keep the conversation focused on the lawsuit, and keep her thoughts from wandering in other directions. It was the first time she'd ever been tempted to get personal with another lawyer working on a case, either opposite or beside her. Not that she was tempted. At all.

"You did a nice job at the depo today," she allowed.

"Even though it took me seven hours?"

"Even though," she said, and smiled. "It'll be awhile before we can depose her in the federal suit, but there's nothing preventing us from taking advantage of any admissions she makes in the state court action. After all, sworn testimony is sworn testimony."

They rehashed some of the highlights of the deposition until the food arrived and Grace realized that, when you put aside the theatrics, there actually had been some serious testimony they could use in the case, thanks to Jack's perseverance. Then Grace took a moment to admire the thick slab of seared tuna nestled between slices of tomato and avocado on fresh wheatberry bread, before taking her first bite. Florida really did have a corner on the market where fresh seafood was concerned.

Jack was smiling at her again, and she saw humor in his eyes and something else. A kind of intensity that made her wonder what exactly he saw when he looked at her. But his words were harmless enough.

"As much as you insist you'd rather be in Philadelphia, you seem to have an affinity for the local cuisine."

"Florida's a great place to visit," she said, and realized that this time it was true. She actually was having fun working on the case with him, pressure from Paul Glassman notwithstanding.

"You just don't want to live here."

"Right." She took a long drink of water and settled back in her chair. "You, on the other hand, probably think it's the best place in the world to live."

"Guilty as charged. I love the climate, the boating, the fishing, the whole Florida lifestyle. And my family's here," he said simply.

"You're close to your family."

"Sure. I've got two brothers, two sisters. Assorted nieces and nephews. Not to mention a bunch of cousins. And my parents are still here. You never have to worry about having someplace to go on a holiday, that's for sure."

"That's nice." She could picture him, surrounded by all his relatives. Relaxed, joking, pretty much the way he'd been when he was hanging out with her family on Sunday.

"But you don't want to live near your family."

He said it really as more of a statement than a question, but she had to admit he was right. When she'd left Florida for college all those years ago one of her main reasons for picking Bryn Mawr – and later Penn for law school – had been that she didn't want to live near her family. She valued her hard-won independence. And she genuinely loved the life she had built for herself in Philadelphia. When she was home even now it was still too easy to fall into the old habits, too easy to pick at the scabs of old wounds she thought had healed over years ago. To be honest, she still had questions about the way everything had played out with her father's wrongful death lawsuit all those years ago, but in Philadelphia it was easier just to let the past stay in the past. It was only here in Florida that questions and doubts seemed to hover just out of her grasp, making her feel uneasy without understanding why. But there was no reason to explain any of that to Jack. And if it didn't even make sense to herself, how could she explain it? But she could tell him what she'd realized just the other day.

"I actually think I get along better with my family when I don't see them as often," she said, thinking of the pleasant time she'd had just that Sunday. "But it's not really that I'm avoiding them on purpose. It's just – I really, really enjoy being in Philadelphia. You've gotta' admit it's a great city."

"Philadelphia in the winter is cold and dreary," Jack pointed out.

"It's crisp and invigorating," Grace said.

Jack just shook his head.

"I give up. So what's the plan?"

Her mind blanked. "The plan? As in?"

"As in, what miracles are you planning to work with the deposition testimony I got from Shelley today?"

Good. This was comforting territory, Grace thought, settling into her meal and the conversation.

"All right. We've established that Shelley hasn't done anything to look for a job since Morrie fired her."

"So? She's hardly hurting for money."

"No, that's not the point. Under Title VII, she has a duty to mitigate damages. Like a tenant who has a hole in the roof, and can't just sit back for weeks and let the water pour in and ruin all his belongings, then hold the landlord responsible for thousands of dollars in damages. But in the employment context, it's a duty to use due diligence to find another job."

"And if she fails to do so, then no back wages?"

"That's right. And as far as any sort of emotional distress component, you pretty much laid that to rest today. No doctor visits, no therapists, no prescription medication, no sudden loss or gain of weight, and, in Shelley's words, she 'sleeps like a baby.'"

"I'm sure that comment was more to rankle Morrie than anything else."

"Whatever her purpose, after her testimony in this deposition, she'll have a hard time proving any kind of emotional damage. Bye-bye compensatory damages claim." She swirled a sweet potato fry lightly in ketchup, and gave him a smug look. "And punitive damages? I'm not seeing it. Here's why."

* * *

Jack watched her become more animated as she discussed the case. She was an interesting study, he thought. Seeming to run hot and cold by turns. Oddly oblivious to the fact that Jimmy cared about her – cared about her a great deal, from what Jack could tell. Competent, professional and focused – like right now, as she laid out a game plan based on the deposition testimony. And yet. Not that long ago she'd seemed more like a nervous ingénue than a litigator with killer instincts and a heart of steel, perched on the barstool looking almost too young for the glass of wine she sipped. And he'd had the urge to taste that wine on her lips. There'd been a moment there when he'd been certain the same thoughts were going through her mind.

He toyed with the idea, let it roll around in his mind, thought about what her reaction might be if he leaned over and covered that tempting mouth with his own. Would she jerk back in surprise? Would she calmly tell him off? Or would the same nerves he thought he'd seen earlier reappear, her lips trembling under his? And if he suggested they go back to her room, what would she do? What was under the normally cool demeanor? Suddenly he wanted very much to find out.

And since he and Grace weren't lawyers in the same law firm, or opponents in the pending litigation, he didn't consider it much of a conflict of interest. She probably would, though, he thought, and smiled to himself. He imagined propriety was very important to Grace, and even the suggestion of an appearance of the lack thereof would keep her up at night, worrying.

Grace was an attractive and interesting woman. But there were lots of attractive and interesting women. She also struck him as the serious type, and the last thing Jack was looking for was a serious relationship with a woman who was obsessive about her career. Been there, done that. The most he'd be looking for with Grace was a casual fling, and there were plenty of reasons why a casual fling with the stepdaughter of one of his best friends was probably not a good idea.

He considered the possibilities, then took Jimmy's advice and kept his hands to himself, and returned his mind – reluctantly – to the lawsuit.