Indiscretion

Friday morning, Dawson had a deposition, so it was quiet around the office. I had work to do, though, lots of it. This was just the end of my first week, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that he could hand me a task with minimal instructions, and I could run with it.

I stood at the copier, printing the attachments for a motion, when a deep voice came from behind me.

“Those are some heels.”

I startled and tossed the stack of papers in my hands up in the air. They floated to the floor as I turned with a hammering heart. “Will you ever learn to not sneak up on people?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you the night you belted me. I had no idea you were there.” Dawson smirked. “Besides, I said it from ten feet away so I wouldn’t have to duck.”

“Maybe next time you can just not scare the crap out of me.” I bent and swept the papers together.

Dawson squatted and joined me, grabbing the ones I couldn’t reach. “You have more makeup on than usual.” His eyes went from my face to my gaping shirt. “Pretty red lace bra, too.”

I pulled the papers against my chest and stood. “You’re an HR nightmare.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t have an HR department.” He winked. “They’d ruin all the fun.”

I chuckled. “You’re really an ass.”

“Speaking of asses…you look really nice. Got a hot date or something?”

“No. I’m meeting a friend. I told you about it before.”

“A male friend?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. A male friend.”

Dawson’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Is this your ex?”

“Simon, yes. He’s in India for a while, but he’s from New York. He’s home for his sister’s wedding.”

“You looking to rekindle that?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You’re all dolled up. It looks like you’re going on a date. Could give the guy the wrong impression.”

I put my free hand on my hip. “First of all, all dolled up? What are you, ninety? That’s something my grandfather would’ve said. And second of all, how is putting on a little makeup and wearing a nice outfit giving a guy the wrong impression?”

“Just telling you what I see.”

“What exactly do you see?”

Dawson’s eyes dropped to my toes and worked a slow path up my body. I could practically feel him on my skin. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

“You look beautiful.” His jaw clenched. “Enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Whatever.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were jealous.”

I’d said it because I thought I did know better, but Dawson’s face turned red. Oh my God. Is he really jealous?

He turned and walked away, without looking back. “I got shit to do. I’ll be in my office.”

Dawson’s door stayed shut the rest of the afternoon. It was just as well. The man was distracting, and I had a ton of work too. When five o’clock rolled around, I got ready to leave on time, something I hadn’t managed yet. I was meeting Simon at five thirty for an early dinner since he hadn’t adjusted to the time change and was trying not to since he was only home a short time.

I knocked on the door to let Dawson know I was going to take off.

“Come in!”

I opened the door. I’d wondered if Dawson had been avoiding me all afternoon, but it looked like he was up to his eyeballs in work. His desk was covered in papers and a half-dozen red file folders. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and his tie was gone. I was pretty sure he’d been running a hand through his thick hair. I found the disheveled look oddly sexy.

“What’s up?” he said.

“I’m going to head out. I emailed you the motion on the Emerson file and put together everything for the discovery request on Catalano.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to be here late?”

“Probably. The ADA sent over two last-minute witness additions on the Fanning case that goes to trial next week. I’m trying to figure out what the hell they have to do with anything. Whatever I find could change my entire strategy, and I was almost done with trial prep.”

“Shoot. Okay, well, if you need help, I can always come in this weekend.”

“Thanks. But I’ll figure it out.” He did a quick sweep over my legs and frowned. “You better get going so you’re not late for your date.”

He said the last word like it tasted bad in his mouth. Though his eyes went back to the work on his desk, so maybe I was misreading things again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” He glanced up.

“What do you think might’ve happened if I hadn’t been drunk that night at the cabin?”

He shrugged. “I guess you wouldn’t have tried to seduce me.”

“What if I had?”

“Had what?”

“Tried to seduce you that night, but I was sober?”

Dawson’s eyes burned into mine before he answered. “I don’t have to wonder what might’ve happened, because I know. You wouldn’t have been able to walk the next day.”

Oh my. My jaw hung open.

Dawson raised a brow. “Any other questions?”

“Umm… No.”

“Where is your date taking you?”

“It’s not a date. He’s seeing someone. We’re just two old friends catching up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure he doesn’t think it’s a date.”

“You don’t know anything about Simon.”

“Maybe not. But it’s rare a man only wants to be friends with a woman he’s attracted to, and you two have obviously dated before.”

“Simon doesn’t think it’s a date. Neither of us does.”

“No? Where are you going for dinner? I can tell you this guy’s intentions based on that.”

“How?”

“There’s a difference in where I’d have dinner with someone like Lily and where I’d take a date. Le Pavilion, Veronika, or Raoul’s? He’s trying to impress you and wants to take you home with him. Fresco, Meat, or Oscar Wilde? He’ll make sure you get in the Uber but won’t try to climb in after you.”

I felt my cheeks heat. No way in hell I was sharing that this afternoon Simon had texted and changed going out to dinner to ordering in at his place. So I ignored him. “Have a good night.”

Dawson picked up his pen and started to write on a legal pad. “I’d say the same,” he noted without looking up. “But I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

***

“Earth to Naomi…”

I blinked a few times and found Simon staring at me. “Sorry.” I forced a smile. “My brain is stuck at work.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Dawson had said, “You wouldn’t have been able to walk the next day” at the office. Two hours later, I still couldn’t stop his words from replaying in my head.

Simon smiled back. “Some things never change. You used to get lost in your head when you studied too. I asked if you want some wine?”

“Oh, sure. That would be great. Thank you.”

He stood. “I did a cleft palate on a little girl whose family makes their own wine. They brought me two bottles the day they came for her post-surgical checkup. It’s the best Cab I’ve ever tasted. I brought one home with me for you to try, because I know it’s your favorite.”

“I can’t believe you remember my favorite wine.”

“We drank enough of it up at the cabin we’d rented in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Remember, you kept swearing the old guy sitting alone in the bar was Mick Jagger? You put on ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’ and were acting it out on the dance floor.”

I covered my face as I laughed. “Oh my God. Why do you have to remember everything? That woman was not happy when I asked to take a picture and told her who I thought she was.”

A pop came from the kitchen, followed by the gluck-gluck sound of wine being poured into glasses. Simon came back into the living room just as I finished unpacking the last of the Chinese takeout from the bag.

“You ordered enough for six people.”

“I couldn’t decide what to get. I’ve missed my Friday-night Chinese takeout.”

He passed me a wine glass and took a seat on the rug diagonally across from me at the coffee table. I liked that he’d suggested we eat like this instead of at the table. It brought me back to our college days. “Do you still do pizza on Tuesdays, too?”

He opened one of the cardboard containers and used chopsticks to dish some shrimp and broccoli onto his plate. “Of course. Except now I don’t eat a whole pie, because the calories don’t incinerate with a half-hour workout at the gym like they used to.”

Simon was being modest. He looked good. Really good. Even after traveling all night from Mumbai.

“Thank you again for being okay with eating in tonight,” he said. “I’m wiped out.”

“Of course.”

“I tried to get us reservations at this fancy vegan place, Eleven Madison Park. I would’ve gotten my butt in gear to take you there. But they didn’t have an opening for more than three months.”

“This is perfect.” I shoveled some vegetable lo mein onto my plate, and we exchanged containers and a smile.

“So tell me about this job you got,” he said. “Do you like it? I never thought I’d see the day when you worked for the bad guys.”

“To be honest, I’m just happy to have a job.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t fight getting disbarred.”

“There wasn’t anything to fight about. I did it. End of story.”

“But you were provoked.”

“Sadly, that’s not a valid defense.”

Simon popped a shrimp into his mouth. “So what exactly does a paralegal do? It’s not like a secretary, is it?”

“No. You assist the attorneys, but not the same way an administrative assistant would. It’s doing a lot of legwork, like drafting motions and prepping witness lists. It really depends on the level of work the paralegal can handle.”

“Sounds like the lawyer who hired you got a total score. The level of work you can handle is her job. I hope she appreciates you.”

“She is a he, and while Dawson can be an ass most of the time, I do think he already appreciates that he doesn’t have to explain things to me.”

“The guy’s an ass?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Handle. Man handle. “You wouldn’t have been able to walk the next day.” Great. Now my brain was back there again, where it had spent the hour-long trek to Simon’s apartment, a trek that should have been a half hour, tops. But I’d been so thrown by the comment Dawson made that I’d gotten on the A train going downtown instead of uptown. And I didn’t notice until we were all the way down at City Hall. Thankfully, an uptown express train had pulled in as soon as I got off the wrong one, so Simon didn’t have to wait too long. But I needed to pull my mind from the gutter.

Simon’s forehead creased. “Naomi?”

My eyes jumped to his. “Yeah?”

He smiled funny, and I realized he was holding a carton out to me. “I asked if you wanted to try a crab rangoon? They’re vegan, so the crab is probably tofu, but I figured we could give them a shot.”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah. Thanks.” My zoning out was rude, and a subject change was definitely in order. “Tell me about the work you’re doing in India.”

Simon lit up as he spoke about the kids he’d been helping. He told me about a six-year-old girl who couldn’t even speak because of the facial deformities she was born with. He and his team had done five surgeries on her, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room when she’d come back last week and said his name. Her parents told him she’d been practicing Dr. Andrews all day and night.

“I’d known I wanted to do this trip for a long time. But I thought I’d be helping them. I didn’t realize how much they’d help me.”

“What do you mean?”

“After I finished my residency, I got caught up in thinking it was my time.” Simon shook his head. “You go to school for so many years, then make shit money and work like a dog during your residency. When I took the job at the practice where I am now, I finally made a good salary. I bought a fancy Mercedes that I don’t even need living in the City, swapped my thirty-nine-ninety-nine-a-month ratty gym membership for a four-hundred-dollar-a-month Equinox one, and I was even considering buying an apartment and leaving this rent-controlled place because it doesn’t have a view.” Simon shook his head again. “I was putting value on the wrong things in life. India has been a reminder of what’s important. You don’t get happiness from material things; you get it from the people in your life. That’s where my focus should be.” He held out a hand, and when I put mine in his, he squeezed. “I’m glad you decided to move to New York.”