“Shit.” I stand, pacing to the window. Palm Beach sprawls below, morning sun bouncing off chrome and glass.
The knot in my tie is choking me. I loosen it, then tighten it again. A lawyer controls the facts. The room. The outcome. But control’s slipping where she’s concerned.
Heat prickles under my collar, even with Kaley keeping the office cold enough to hang meat.
I shove the Torres file into my briefcase. I want to readit one more time, confirm it’s closed, tidy, done, but I need a break. I'll do it after the board meeting.
The CHG quarterly starts in an hour. Janie will be there, presenting outreach metrics, sitting across the table, polished and composed. No doubt, without even trying, she'll be daring me to forget how easily we could burn everything down.
The hospital conference room hums with low conversation as I slide into my seat, nodding briskly at Pope. My suit jacket buttons smoothly, professional armor locked in place. I arrange my leather portfolio at a perfect right angle to the table edge, a habit from years of courtroom precision.
"Carter, good of you to join us." Pope's voice carries just enough edge to remind everyone who runs the room. He's in town for the next few days, so I know I'll be coming here more than normal while he's here.
I ignore the bait. "Traffic on Ocean." A lie. I'd spent twenty minutes in my car, gathering the composure I'd need to sit across from her.
The voices fade as Pope calls the meeting to order. I keep my eyes on my notes, scribbling nonsense until?—
“Next, our community outreach progress report. Ms. Harrelson?”
My head lifts before I can stop it.
Janie rises from her chair across the table, iPad in hand. The black sheath dress is perfectly professional, yet my mind betrays me, conjuring an image of it sliding off her shoulders, my palms spanning the curve of her waist. I shove the thought down, forcing my jaw tight.
“Thank you, Mr. Carrigan.”
Her voice is steady as she clicks through her first slides. Numbers and graphs bloom across the screen, but theyblur into background noise while I track the way her hands move, precise and confident.
“Our outreach efforts have exceeded projections by seventeen percent. We’re still in the early stages, but the response so far has been strong, both in participation and community feedback.”
She’s magnificent. Commanding the room without effort, fielding board questions like she’s been doing this her whole life.
And I’m sitting here, every muscle coiled, fighting to remember this is supposed to be business.
It shouldn’t undo me, seeing her like this. I’ve felt her body arch beneath mine, tasted her breathless laugh against my mouth. Twice now, I’ve had her.
And still, watching her own this boardroom, I feel something else twist through me—an ache I don’t want, pride I don’t deserve.
She isn’t mine.
But God help me, I want her to be.
"Mr. Carter developed the legal framework that allowed us to expand services across county lines."
My name in her mouth snaps me back to attention. Our eyes connect for half a second before she smoothly continues her presentation.
My pulse hammers in my throat. Did anyone notice? Did Pope?
I force my gaze down to my notepad, where I've apparently been drawing tight spirals instead of taking notes. When I glance up, Pope's eyes narrow slightly in my direction before returning to Janie.
He knows. Of course he knows. The man misses nothing.
I straighten my shoulders and school my expression into professional interest, but it's too late. Somethingfundamental has shifted, and I can't stuff it back into its box.
The meeting concludes with handshakes and murmured congratulations. Board members file out while I deliberately take my time gathering papers, waiting until the room thins.
Thankfully, Pope is out of here, so I don't have to get cornered by him.
Janie lingers at the front, shutting down the presentation, her back to me.