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  Chapter One

  I thought my life was going exactly as planned. I believed that I had my proverbial shit together. I was in control, I was happy and content. It only takes an instant to realize how wrong you are about...well, everything.

  “Hey, Brooke,” the smooth, deep voice behind me crooned. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

  My fingers hovering over the keyboard, I tossed my head over my shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. “I really can’t say the same,” I muttered.

  His response was a grin; a slimy, insincere stretch of his lips that he obviously thought was attractive. He was wrong.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, regretting the question as soon as it was out of my mouth, because it would inevitably extend his hovering in the doorway of my office.

  “I’m here to meet with your boss,” he stated, still with the oleaginous smirk. He stepped forward in his highly polished Italian shoes, and ran a hand down the dark gray vest of his three-piece suit. “I think he wants to talk about a plea bargain on the Jewkes case.”

  I couldn’t help the unladylike snort that erupted as I turned back to my computer screen. “I don’t think so,” I informed him. “You haven’t got anything on Jewkes and you know it. We can’t wait to take this thing to trial.”

  “Hmm,” he chuckled, slithering toward my desk before perching himself on the corner. “You were very impressive in court today, by the way.”

  Remaining silent, I ignored his hollow flattery.

  Randy Gregoire had been assistant DA for a little over a year, and was one of the youngest ADA’s in the country. A high-flying Yale graduate, he had his sights set on the top. He was driven. In that regard, he and I were extremely similar. That, however; was where our common ground had begun and ended. Randy by name and very randy by nature, he’d made attempts to hit on me each time we’d ever met. And it was no secret that he had a voracious sexual appetite; he had bedded (and tossed aside), every willing female law intern in the city. If those poor girls had believed his promises of giving them a leg-up, they were not savvy enough to be lawyers.

  “It’s late on a Friday night to still be working, isn’t it?” he asked, reaching out and folding his smooth fingers around my wrist to pull my hand away from the keyboard.

  Instantly, snatching free from him, my eyes darted up to meet his. “You’re still working too,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, drawing his hand back and sweeping the fingers through his short, blonde hair. “But I’ll be finished up soon, and then maybe you and I could grab a drink?”

  “I’m busy,” I replied stiffly.

  “You’re always busy, Brooke,” he countered with a chuckle. “But sometimes you’ve got to let that hair down,” he added, pitching his voice a little lower.

  “How many different ways can I say ‘no’?” I sighed, giving up on my work and using both hands to push my chair away from the desk. I was only propelled a few inches back, but it was enough to put some distance between us.

  One hand adjusting the Windsor knot at his neck, the other smoothed over the perfectly pressed pants covering his thigh. “You’re so uptight, Brooke,” he chuckled. “How long has it been since you had sex?”

  I rolled my eyes at his tiresome crudity. In part, I knew, it was intended to shock me. I’m sure he hoped for a feminine gasp at his blunt question. I certainly wasn’t going to oblige. “That’s nobody’s damn business but my own,” I retorted.

  It had been several months since I’d had sex. I had precious time to meet people, I certainly didn’t want a relationship with all the mess that would involve, and one-night stands had never really been my thing. But that wasn’t the point. Sex wasn’t a big deal, it wasn’t the be all and end all that so many people, Randy included, seemed to believe.

  “You have needs like any other woman,” he continued, oblivious it seemed to the expression of disdain his words were met with. “I could help you out,” he added, his greasy grin growing wide and teeth flashing like a shark that has smelled blood in the water. “I could have you screaming in ecstasy.”

  “I don’t need a man to have an orgasm,” I responded matter-of-factly, folding my arms beneath my bosom. “In fact, most of the time, they just get in the way.”

  My barb failed to wipe the smirk off his face. Instead, his cold, blue eyes flicked up and down the length of my body. Gradually, he took in the black stockings that covered my legs, the pencil skirt that clung to my thighs, and the white silk blouse that hugged my breasts. “Oh, Brooke,” he mumbled. “I can do things your vibrator only dreamed of.”

  “I’m sure,” I snapped, forcing myself from the chair and striding to the still open door. “For instance, my vibrator doesn’t annoy the hell out of me. Now, I believe you have an appointment,” I sighed, gesturing to the doorway, “and I have work to do.”

  For a moment, he looked like he might refuse to leave, but after inhaling sharply, he pushed himself to his feet. “You keep playing hard to get,” he quietly uttered as he walked toward me. “It just makes me all the more hot for you. And tonight, while I’m banging some little slut, I’ll be thinking about you touching yourself.”

  “You’re a pig,” I spat, shaking my head.

  No more than a foot from me, he stopped. “I always get what I want, Brooke,” he breathed.

  The heavy scent of cologne, as though he’d bathed in the stuff, stung my nostrils. “Just get out,” I demanded.

  With a self-assured chuckle, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and took the two steps to the door. Without looking back, he strutted down the corridor to Mr. Weingarten’s office.

  Exhaling through gritted teeth, I grasped the edge of the door and slammed it shut. “For God’s sake,” I whispered, turning back to my desk. If that asshole was the last man on Earth, I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. Randy Gregoire, and men like him, was one of the reasons I refrained from even casual relationships: it tainted you. Men get away with it and are seen as studs. Women, on the other hand, are branded ‘sluts’ and are no longer taken seriously.

  No, as much as we might like to believe we have equality, the truth is we don’t. In what is still a very male-dominated business, I not only had to work that much harder, but also had to conduct myself in a way that made me seem like a ruthless bitch on one hand, and a chaste virgin on the other. Neither of those stereotypes was a true depiction of the real me, but I’d been playing the roles for so long, that I was starting to lose sight of what was true and what wasn’t.

  With a weary huff, I tossed my eyes to the clock as I slumped back in my chair and tugged myself closer to the desk. It was almost eight; everybody else, with the exception of Mr. Weingarten, had left long before. They had families and social lives. I had...work. But that was alright, because work was all I needed. It was all I wanted. Come hell or high water, I would make partner before thirty-five; even if that meant making sacrifices, I knew they were worth it.

  Casting my gaze back to the bright screen before me, I lifted my fingers to the keyboard. But before I managed to type a word, the harsh buzz of the phone interrupted me. Puffing my cheeks out with a sigh, I grabbed for the handset and brought it to my ear. “Weingarten and Ressler, Brooke Addison speaking,” I said.

  “Um, Brooke?” A hesitant, slightly distorted male voice drifted down the line. “I..err...I’m Shawn Lamont, Helena’s brother.”

  “Oh, right, of course,” I nodded, recalling that I’d met Shawn once, maybe twice, before. My brow, however, was tightly lined in confusion. “What can I do for you Shawn?”

  “Um, actually,” he croaked, clearly struggling. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”