Her Favourite Holiday Gift. Lynda Sandoval

admired for her considerable beauty, but come on. It wasn’t like a guy didn’t notice. He’d known about her pet peeve, of course, but what else did you say when you saw someone for the first time in years? So she looked great. Shoot him for pointing it out.

      Just then, the harried waiter approached, plunked two glasses of water on the table. “Sorry for the wait,” he said, slightly out of breath. “What can I get for you?”

      They placed their orders. Once the waiter had bustled off, Colleen seemed to have regained some of her flash and fire. “Honestly, how can you stand by and let Robby Axelrod work on another TakaHanson project?”

      Eric took his time. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the brown leather banquette. “How much do you know about Ned Jones?”

      “What kind of question is that?” she rasped, color rising to angry spots on her cheeks. “He’s my client.”

      “Right. Aware of that. And how much do you know about him?” The calm thing was getting easier by the moment.

      Her lips flattened into a grim line. “I know he was unfairly, unethically terminated because he had dirt on your client.”

      “If that’s all you know, you need to dig deeper.”

      Her knuckles, wound together on the tabletop, whitened, and she went deadly still. “Are you honestly sitting here telling me how to do my job?”

      He counted to ten silently. Why did everything with Colleen devolve into a fight? He started to remember why they were better apart, but strangely, he didn’t want to fall back into that pattern. “I’m trying to do you a favor, from one old friend to another.”

      “My client—”

      “Is not the bad guy,” Eric said gently. That snagged her attention. He waited until she’d closed her mouth, an indication she was listening. “At least, I don’t think he’s the brains behind anything. Gut feeling.”

      “The man doesn’t have the brains to concoct a plot.”

      Ah, so she did know a bit more about her client than she’d initially claimed. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I think he’s the pawn in a much bigger, uglier game.”

      Confusion crinkled Colleen’s brow. She leaned in. “What exactly are you talking about, Eric?”

      Eric wrapped his hands around the warm coffee mug the waiter had unobtrusively set before him as they spoke. “I don’t know. I’m not sure yet, but this whole thing stinks. You may simply want to win, which I can understand. But I want to do the right thing.”

      “Of course.”

      Eric gut-checked sharing this information, and felt fine with it. He blew out a breath.

      “Are you familiar with a real-estate tycoon by the name of Drake Thatcher?”

      She spread her arms. “Should I be?”

      He huffed. “Yes. You should. He’s Taka-Hanson’s biggest competitor, dirty as Tony Soprano. He’ll do anything to take down my clients.” He paused, scrutinizing her. “Up to and including paying your client to toss out false accusations.”

      Her throat moved in a tight swallow, but she maintained her cool. “You have proof of that?”

      “No.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

      “Then why are you wasting my time with unsubstantiated theories?”

      “Because an innocent man shouldn’t have his livelihood destroyed for no good reason. TakaHanson shouldn’t take a major financial blow on the basis of a lie. As ambitious as you are, even you have to agree with that.”

      He could see her annoyance building in the way the muscles worked in her delicate jawline. Tense silence stretched taut between them, but he held his ground.

      She aimed a finger at him. “Listen, Nelson, I’ve been practicing law as long as you have. This kind of ploy—”

      “Here we go,” said the waiter, in an oblivious singsong tone. “Be careful now. The plates are hot.”

      Colleen pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers while the waiter presented each, but her hard gaze never left Eric’s face.

      “Can I get you anything else?”

      “No. Thank you,” Eric replied.

      After the waiter had left without so much as an acknowledgment from Colleen, she started to sputter again, but Eric held up his palm. “Look, there’s no ploy. I don’t operate that way. But don’t take my word for it. Research me. Dig up everything you can about the way I practice.”

      “I will. And I’ll prove you wrong about Jones.”

      “Think about this logically. You’re the opposing counsel, Colleen, and aside from that, we don’t exactly have an uncheckered past, you and I.”

      “You always did have a knack for putting things mildly.”

      “I’m speaking truthfully. If I didn’t have respect for you as an old friend, a colleague, and from everything I’ve read, a damned sharp attorney, I’d keep my theories to myself until I had enough to annihilate you and Ned Jones in the courtroom. Which I would.” He paused, letting that sink in. “Lucky for you, that’s not how I practice law.”

      “So you’re doing me a favor?”

      “No. I’m—” He lowered his chin, measured his words. “I’m not about the show, I’m about the truth, and I think we’re missing parts of the truth in this case. You can ignore what I’m telling you and let the cards fall, or you can look into it. I don’t care.” He took a languid bite of his sandwich and shrugged while he chewed. After swallowing, he added, “But I know you’re one step from partner at that firm of yours, though God only knows why you’d want to work with that pack of old-school drones.”

      Colleen’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly closed it. Her reaction told him she thought they were old-school drones, too, which made him wonder why she wanted to build a career there. An imponderable for another day.

      “That’s not going to happen if you miss something major like, say, an extortion plot in which your client is a player,” he said. “I promise you that.”

      “God, Eric, you sound like you’re writing a cheesy legal thriller.”

      “Maybe so, but I think I’m onto something.” He shrugged. “Frankly, I’d love to see you make partner at your firm. Framus would bust a vein.”

      Whoa, had she almost smiled there?

      She still hadn’t touched her burger. Instead, she stared at him with incredulity overlayed by a film of worry she couldn’t quite hide, then huffed out a nonlaugh. “So you’re telling me I have no case in order to save my career? How chivalrous of you. Don’t take me for an idiot.”

      Eric didn’t react. He didn’t engage. He didn’t want their every interaction to end this way. “I take you for a lot of things, but idiot isn’t one of them,” he said, even-toned. Suspicion crossed her expression, but he’d just let her wonder about the subtext of his statement. “This one’s on you. I’ve shared what I suspect.”

      “And what am I supposed to do with it? Take your word? Drop the case on the basis of an unproven theory? I don’t think so.”

      “Colleen,” he said smoothly, measuring his words. “Your burger’s getting cold. Eat your lunch. Then research me. Research Drake Thatcher and any possible connection he may have to your client. Research Robby Axelrod’s clean work record. That’s what I’ll be doing, and that’s what you should do, too. For your own sake.”