Restless. Tori Carrington

MORNING, Gauge woke to the sound of a ringing phone. Probably one of the neighbors’, he thought, rolling onto his back and pulling the pillow over his head. Then he realized that he didn’t have any neighbors. At least not ones separated from him by a wall.

      He dragged the pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling, guessing it to be around nine or ten. The scent of musk teased his nose and he put the pillow back to his face, glancing at the other side of the bed. Gone.

      It was just as well that Lizzie Gilbred had gotten up and left his place at some point during the night.

      He reached for the telephone receiver next to the bed, but it stopped mid-ring.

      Good.

      He reached down and scratched his balls then slid his fingers down his semierect shaft. He’d give Lizzie a lot of credit. Some women might have taken offense at his refusal of intimacy. Not her. If anything, she’d seemed further turned-on by the idea that she was there for sex and sex only. No strings that stretched beyond the perimeter of this bed.

      She’d been insatiable. Going from screaming orgasm one moment to frenzied, sex-starved nympho the next. It had been a good long while since he’d enjoyed more than just a ten-minute sack session with a woman.

      And months since he’d awakened not thirsting for a swallow from the bottle on the kitchen table across the room.

      He tossed off the blankets and rose from the bed, heading for the bathroom and the shower, where he stood for long minutes under the hot spray. He’d promised the band that he’d stop by the pub this morning to practice before they opened for lunch. He shouldn’t have a problem making it, seeing as he really didn’t have anything else on his agenda.

      Hell, he didn’t know what he was still doing in Fantasy, Michigan. If he’d known what was good for him, he’d have left right after Nina and Kevin’s wedding in August. Would never have unpacked his bag or his guitar and would have hightailed it back out after the reception.

      But he hadn’t.

      For some reason he had yet to fully define, he’d stayed on, renting the garage apartment from sexy Lizzie Gilbred, sitting in with area bands when they needed him and waiting until either wanderlust or a long-term commitment to a single band saw him hitting the road again.

      Then he’d blinked and it was almost Christmas.

      He’d hoped to be well out of the northern city before winter hit. While he’d lived through the past three when he’d gone into partnership with Nina and Kevin, he’d been vaguely looking forward to heading someplace south this season, as he had done in the years before the three had become friends.

      He pushed his face into the punishing hot spray and ran his hands over the stubble covering his jaw.

      Friends. Now there was a word for you.

      The ringing started again.

      Gauge shut off the water and stood dripping, listening to it. When it appeared the caller wasn’t about to give up, he grabbed a towel, rubbing it against his hair as he walked into the other room and picked up the extension.

      “Gauge?”

      His every muscle tightened as he recognized the female voice on the other end. Nina.…

       4

      LIZZIE CLOSED her notepad and stood up from the conference table. The afternoon strategy meeting to discuss a case going to court the following week was drawing to a close.

      “I want to see that deposition, Mark,” she said to a junior associate.

      “It’ll be on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

      “I’d prefer a half hour.” She turned toward another associate. “Mary Pat, how’s the witness prep going?”

      The pretty brunette smiled. “As well as can be expected. I’ve got another meeting with the key to go over testimony on Friday. Hopefully this time he won’t crack under cross.”

      Lizzie nodded. “If anyone can handle it, you can.”

      The room began emptying out as everyone said good-night and hurried off before she could assign them another task or ask another question.

      Lizzie was the last one out. Which was usually the case. Her boss, John Stivers, had always said she was one of the hardest workers he’d ever seen. And, of course, the instant he’d said it, she’d determined to work even harder.

      It was after six and she understood that many of her associates had families they wanted to get home to. The three senior partners had called it a day an hour or so ago, as had the secretarial pool and most of the paralegals, but she’d requested the late meeting because it was the only time they could fit it in.

      She entered her office and put her files on her desktop. Her own paralegal was still on the clock and peeked her head through the door leading to the lobby area.

      “Do you need me for anything else?” Amanda asked.

      Lizzie glanced at her watch, then through the window. It was dark already. The white landscape looked grim from her third-floor office in the new building built to accommodate the expanding practice.

      At least five things sprang to mind, but instead she waved her hand. “Go on home, Amanda. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “Thanks. Good night.”

      “Good night.”

      Lizzie sank down into her coffee-colored leather desk chair and sat for long moments, watching as the offices emptied out.

      The partners had conducted a survey that estimated there was a more than thirty percent turnover of new attorneys at high-powered law firms nationwide, while their own partnership was doing slightly better, mostly because of the incentive program she’d helped them devise the year before. While Lizzie and a handful of other associates hungry to climb the partnership ladder put in over a hundred hours a week, most of the others averaged between sixty and eighty. Since much of their time as trial attorneys was spent at the courthouse, the only opportunity to do follow-up and file and prep work was after the regular hours of nine-to-five.

      By rights, she should be feeling tired. Instead, she found she was still energized. She smiled as she compiled her notes and put a couple of files in her out-box. Over the past week she’d had to mainline caffeine to keep going. Today…

      Her eyes widened. Today, she’d barely thought about Jerry and his leaving her high and dry.

      Instead, she found her thoughts trailing to one very hot, very sexy Patrick Gauge.

      She squeezed her thighs together, feeling tingly all over again.

      Her cell phone chirped. She tilted it on her desk so she could read the display and then answered.

      “I need a drink. Meet me at Ciao?” Tabitha asked.

      Lizzie smiled. She could always count on her old friend to liven things up. If not for Tabitha this past week, things would have been harder than they had been. She and Lizzie had been close ever since attending University of Toledo Law School together, and they’d seen each other through some difficult times.

      Despite their shared interest in the legal system, they’d taken different paths. While Lizzie had chosen trial law, Tabby had gone the bankruptcy route, helping strapped people regain some kind of control over their lives.

      Lizzie asked now, “Why do you need a drink?”

       “You’re right. I probably don’t need a drink. But I want one.” Tabitha sighed. “A long day, that’s all.”

      “Tell me about it,” Lizzie agreed, although she hadn’t felt the day had been particularly grueling.

      “You’re sounding better. Oh, no. Don’t tell me. He called.”

      “Who?” she asked, before thinking. She cringed. Tabby knew her